


One Step Too Far

by fictionalinfinity



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Gen, Immortal Merlin, Magic, Mentions of suicidal thought, Merlin Waiting for Arthur Pendragon's Return (Merlin), Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Post-Battle of Camlann, Sad Merlin (Merlin), Time Travel, Whump, not in the way you think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2020-08-10 18:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 40,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20140273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalinfinity/pseuds/fictionalinfinity
Summary: It was nice, he thought, being away from the noise of the city. When the policemen trotted by on their horses, the birds chirped in the trees, and Merlin closed his eyes, he could pretend for just a moment that he was in Camelot. That he was home.“Merlin! What the bloody hell is going on?!” A familiar voice called, albeit one he hadn’t heard in many years. Maybe he’d imagined a little bit too much…-Arthur died, and so Merlin waited.Just when Merlin begins to give up, visitors from his past appear in a most unexpected way, and a villain from long ago seeks revenge.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm excited to delve into this (pretty major) AU! After finishing the bulk of my other series I figured I'd post this. It's an idea I've been toying with in my head a lot, so I can't wait to see it put in words.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

**Chapter One**

Over time, Merlin had numbed himself to the pain of his loss. It was more than a millennium and a half since his king had died, since all of his other friends had withered with age and left him behind. The lonely warlock hadn’t expected to see them again. 

Merlin had been about to settle down for lunch when it happened. After popping into a local  _ Pret  _ and grabbing a sandwich plus a much needed coffee, he had crossed the busy street into one of the royal parks and found himself a secluded bench to sit on. As he ate, Merlin flipped through a few pages of a book from his shelf at his flat. 

It was nice, he thought, being away from the noise of the city. When the police men trotted by on their horses, the birds chirped in the trees, and Merlin closed his eyes, he could pretend for just a moment that he was in Camelot. That he was  _ home.  _

“ _ Merl _ in! What the bloody hell is going on?!” A familiar voice called, albeit one he hadn’t heard in many years. Maybe he’d imagined a little bit  _ too  _ much…

_ A few hours earlier… _

Arthur had decided that whatever Guinevere wanted on her birthday, she would get. The king knew that she didn’t really want those fanciful birthday feasts that royals received, that they made her awfully uncomfortably. When he told her that they could do anything she wanted that day before the feast (the council had  _ insisted  _ there be one held, for tradition’s sake), Gwen’s eyes had lit up like the stars in the sky. 

That’s how he and his wife, plus all of their closest friends had ended up on horseback, riding towards a field where they could enjoy a picnic. 

Guinevere and Merlin were at the lead, and he was making her laugh by sharing some of the latest castle gossip that she was no longer privy to as queen. Arthur and Leon rode behind them talking of battle strategy, while Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival took up the rear. 

From what Arthur could tell, everyone seemed a little more carefree outside the castle walls. Not much time had passed since Morgana’s last attack, and despite it being for Gwen, he knew they all needed the respite. 

When they arrived, Arthur dismounted and rushed to his wife’s side to help her down, a task which sometimes proved difficult with her poofy and extravagant gowns. She laughed but thanked him nonetheless. 

“Merlin! Spread everything out here, and be quick about it,” Arthur ordered and watched in delight as the servant began to grumble.

“Oh, Arthur, do be nice. Here, Merlin, I’ll help,” Gwen admonished before moving to help the manservant. As all of the other knights advanced to do the same, Arthur couldn’t help the heat that burned his ears before begrudgingly going to aid his wife.  _ The things I do for love… _

When everything was spread out before them, everyone began to humour each other with tales of their adventures. Arthur hadn’t seen his dear Guinevere this happy in a long time. 

“-and then this idiot decided to trick me, steal my idea, and drink from the one goblet containing both drinks, including the poisoned one!” Merlin finished the story about dealing with the aftermath of killing the unicorn. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“It’s what any good king would have done for any of his people,” Arthur tried to shrug of the fact that it was a blatant lie. 

“No, they wouldn’t! You just did it for sweet Merlin here,” Gwaine said, his boisterous laughter infectious to the others. 

Elyan was nearly doubled over in laughter at the sight of Arthur’s red face. “I can’t believe you drank poison for Merlin! And after only knowing him for less than a few months.”

“It wasn’t actually poison. Just a sleeping draught,” Arthur grumbled, trying to save whatever was left of his dignity. 

“Oh, you think that’s something? After only knowing Arthur for a couple of weeks, Merlin charged into the banquet hall claiming Bayard had poisoned Arthur’s chalice! Merlin drank from the chalice just to prove it. Sure enough, it was poisoned. You nearly died, didn’t you?” Leon recalled, ignoring the shocked gasps that came from the group as he told the story.

“I certainly thought so,” Guinevere scoffed. “You were as pale as I’d ever seen you. Scared me half to death when you sat up after Gaius proclaimed you dead. I was so surprised that I kissed you! Oh, Merlin, I can’t believe I did that!” Guinevere fell into fits of laughter once more. The shocked gasps were louder this time. 

“Guinevere-!” Arthur began, but found he couldn’t say much more through his shock.

Merlin wore a humble but amused smile. “I didn’t mind, my lady.”

“Why, you-!” Arthur tried again, and yet again he was cut off. This time by an odd rumbling sound beneath their feet. 

Everyone sprung to their feet before taking a few cautious steps back. Arthur had his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice. The rumbling grew louder and the ground began to shake. As cracks started to form, a bright white light seeped through. It continued to grow, eventually blinding them. No matter how hard he tried, he could not move his feet. 

“Arthur!” He heard Gwen call desperately, but before he could respond there was a falling sensation and then nothing.

“Arthur? Gwaine?  _ Anyone?”  _ Merlin called uneasily, his voice shaking. There was no reply. The field had returned to normal, but there was no sign of his friends.

_ Present _

Merlin shook his head to clear it. There was no point in dwelling on the past. One day Arthur would rise again when Albion’s need was greatest, but that moment was not now. He took another bite of his sandwich and returned to his book. 

“Oi, Merlin, what’re you wearing?” That voice sounded familiar too. Merlin couldn’t quite place it, age had taken its toll on memory. Despite that, Merlin was sure he recognized it. 

When Merlin looked up, he dropped his sandwich in surprise.  _ Am I finally losing it?  _ There was no way the people in front of him could be his old friends. The figment of his imagination-  _ Arthur! - _ glared at him impatiently. 

“What sorcery is this? What is this place?” Leon asked in frustration. Merlin ran his hand through his hair, which had grown a bit shaggy if he was honest, he ought to have that fixed- No! That was not his priority right now. The fact that he’d finally gone insane held that position. 

“That’s it, I’m going home,” Merlin declared before standing. After packing away his book and slinging his briefcase over his shoulder, he chugged the remaining coffee and began to hurry away. 

Casting a glance over his shoulder confirmed his fears that the figments of his imagination were stubbornly following him. “Merlin!” Gwen called, but Merlin refused to answer the  _ voices  _ in his  _ head.  _ “Oh, Arthur, do you think he can hear us? Maybe that magic earlier prevented him from seeing us.”

That gave Merlin pause. The figments of his imagination seemed to think they were in a real situation. However, it couldn’t be real. Merlin had experienced episodes like this before. Granted the entirety of his friends were never all together at once, but he had imagined seeing a friend or two on occasion. The episodes always passed. 

There was a rather un-manly screech from Percival as a man rode past on a motorbike. Merlin trudged on. “This has...it’s got to be some kind of trick! Maybe Morgana’s behind this? Maybe that’s not even Merlin,” Elyan said quickly. The rest of them seemed to concur. 

“Before we make any rash conclusions, let me just try one thing,” Arthur said, and then there was silence. A hand clamped around his shoulder, making him jump in surprise. “ _ Merl _ in, you  _ prat _ , won’t you just slow down for a moment?”

“Oi, clotpole, that’s  _ my  _ wor-...” Merlin trailed off after realizing that he had spoken to (still unclear on the figment-of-my-imagination bit) Arthur, and that there was a real, warm  _ hand _ on his shoulder. That had never happened before. The warlock shrieked and ducked away from the contact. 

“ _ You...You’re...You’re real?!” _

“Of course we’re real, you idiot! Did that magic turn your mind to mush? And why do you look so... _ different? _ ” Arthur asked as the others approached. The group was getting weird stares from the passerbys, and it suddenly hit Merlin that if other people could see them, they were truly were  _ real _ . 

Merlin took a moment to compose himself. “Ri...Right. What do you mean about this magic?” He asked, rubbing his head to assuage the building headache. 

“Just moments ago, we were celebrating Guinevere’s birthday when suddenly a bright light blinded us. When we opened our eyes again, we were… here, or whatever this place is. You were with us, how do you not remember?” Arthur asked, scoffing at Merlin’s supposed idiocy. 

“I… really don’t know Arthur. Let’s get you somewhere a bit more private, and we can try to figure out what exactly happened. Follow me,” he ordered. It seemed that at the mention of privacy they finally seemed to notice the people around them. Most of the knights (except Gwaine, who looked very pleased) averted their eyes to the tight-fitting clothing the women of the twenty-first century wore. 

“I’m going to get us a...a carriage,” Merlin explained before hailing a cabbie. When the man pulled over, they seemed affronted by the ‘carriage’ that moved without horses. 

“What evil sorcery is this? Merlin, you call this a carriage?!” Arthur drew his sword and the others followed suit. The driver’s eyes widened.

“Don’t mind my friends… They’ve just come from one of those cons, you know? They like to get really in character,” Merlin laughed nervously and gestured violently for them to put the very  _ real  _ swords away. 

“Ah, I get it! Climb in, then. Where are you lot off to?” The driver asked amicably, visibly relaxing as the swords were sheathed. Merlin opened the door and moved his friends inside before climbing in himself and giving him the address. 

Merlin’s somehow back from the dead friends remained fearfully quiet the entire ride. The warlock didn’t bother to start a conversation for fear of scaring the driver. He did, however, try to reassure them with smiles. They did not seem to take comfort in that. 

When they arrived at the building where Merlin lived, he offered the driver a few bills before pushing his friends from the vehicle. “Alright then, let’s go in and get you settled. I imagine we’ve got a lot to talk about,” he said before leading them inside. 

Despite knowing that taking the lift would be a lot easier, Merlin didn’t want to risk them going berserk in a confined space where they could plummet to their deaths. He imagined the stairs would be a more familiar and comforting option. 

“I live on the top floor. Most people are at work right now, so no one should bother us on our way up. C’mon, I’ll brew you all some tea,” Merlin waved them on as he took the lead on the stairs. 

“Merlin...How is it you know so much about this strange place?” Gwaine asked uneasily, and he cringed at the reminder of his lonely fate. 

Merlin chose not to respond. 


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin brings the gang to his home, but his attempts to explain end in disaster...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the amazing feedback I've gotten on this! I'm really excited to write this and your comments are very motivating. i hope you enjoy!
> 
> there are mentions of panic and anxiety in this chapter. it may not really trigger anything but i figured i'd just give a heads up.

“Come in, come in… I’ll just be a moment,” Merlin laughed awkwardly, gesturing into his flat. The group from the past passed through his door, eyeing him oddly. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He muttered to himself.

Could this actually be happening? Kilgharrah had always alluded to Arthur being the only one fated to return, yet all of his old companions were sitting in his living room. The only exception was Lancelot, which was odd in itself. If his medieval friends had been brought back from the dead, why leave one member from the Round Table behind?

More importantly, did they remember his magic? Everyone, minus Gwaine and Elyan, had discovered it at some point. Now that Arthur wasn’t on the brink of death, would he be angry?

Whatever the answers turned out to be, there was certainly going to be lots of things to catch up on. How would they react to the fact that he was immortal, that he had done so many awful things?

Merlin took a deep and calming breath, steadying himself.  _ Don’t worry until there’s something to worry about.  _ After taking a moment to reorder himself, he went inside. 

His friends ogled the place in his absence. Percival pressed buttons on a remote, watching in fascination as he changed channels on the telly. Elyan toggled with the light switch while Gwen flipped through an old magazine (was that one out of his collection from the 1950s?). Leon was staring out of the window at the London skyline, pale and in shock. There were noises coming from the kitchen- that must have been Gwaine. Arthur stood in the midst of it all, looking around warily with a hand on the hilt of his sword. 

_ They’re really here!  _

Everyone turned to look as Merlin pulled the door closed, and Gwaine popped back out. Merlin gulped. “Would you all like some tea before we begin?”

“Like that nasty stuff Gaius makes? No, I get enough of it from him, thank you,” Arthur scoffed, and Merlin felt himself genuinely laugh for the first time in a long time. He’d missed this. The normalcy with which Arthur had said it was both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. 

“Was it really that bad? I can’t actually remember,” Merlin said, sobering. The others looked at him oddly again. “But, no...it’s not medicinal. It’s alright though, we can start without it.”

“So, this magic… It brought you all back from the dead I’m assuming?”

“Unless the magic that brought us here also killed us, then no, mate. Why would we be dead?” Gwaine replied, biting an apple he’d somehow managed to get ahold of. Merlin frowned at that. They must have really meant it when they said they were celebrating Gwen’s birthday.

“Does the name Camlann mean anything to any of you?” Merlin tried.

“No, should it?” Leon asked and Merlin raked a hand through his hair. Could they really be from the past, from before  _ Camlann?  _ It seemed impossible, yet… 

“I guess not. I’m just a little confused at how you’re here, I guess,” Merlin admitted and Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“Aren’t you always,  _ Mer _ lin?”

Merlin closed his eyes tightly at hearing his name called that way. That stupid, annoying,  _ fantastic  _ way. Tears pricked at his eyes but he fought them off. 

“Merlin, what’s really going on? Are you alright?” Gwen asked, forcing him to open his eyes again. It had been so long since he’d lost Arthur that just hearing those little things nearly sent him off the edge. 

“I’m fine,” Merlin replied hurriedly, sniffing. “I’m not really sure where to begin, so why don’t you lot ask questions and I’ll answer as honestly as I can,” he offered and was pleased when they nodded in affirmation. 

“Where are we exactly?” Elyan asked, looking around uneasily. 

“This is my home in London,” he replied easily. 

“I’ve never heard of it. Where is it relation to Camelot?” Arthur questioned further, taking a step closer to Merlin. Merlin paused, trying to recall what the old maps of Albion looked like and mentally comparing it to the more modern geography.

“London is east of Camelot. Close to the lands of Tir Mor if I’m not mistaken,” Merlin shrugged, hoping it was a good enough analogy. He could always try to dig up an old map from one of his old chests. He was sure he’d kept one… 

Arthur seemed to think it was a satisfactory enough answer, and the others concurred. 

“And what are these things?” Percival gestured to the television and the lights. “Are they sorcery?” Arthur perked up at the mention.

“Not sorcery, no. Just electricity, something people discovered some years back.”

“If it’s not a new discovery, why have we never heard of it in Camelot? Surely news of something this novel would have reached home by now,” Gwen added, looking around to see if the others agreed. 

“Well, ah…” Merlin started, unsure of how to answer. It wasn’t like he could just put off answering. His friends were smart enough that they’d be able to figure it out on their own if he didn’t tell them. Besides, what would Merlin have to gain by hiding the truth? The knights and queen looked at him expectantly. 

“It was a long time ago for me, but for you… For you it’s quite some time in the future,” Merlin told them. He paused a moment to let the information sink in and wilted a little under the confusing and demanding glares they sent his way. 

“Stop beating around the damn bush, Merlin, and tell us the truth already,” Arthur ordered, staring him down in annoyance. Merlin gulped nervously before just blurting it all out.

“You’re in the future! The magic brought you to the future!”

There was a moment of silence before everything erupted into chaos. Merlin winced as loud voices began to shout out in confusion. 

“This the  _ future?!”  _

“How far into the future?!”

“This can’t be real…”

“Where are we in the future? Are we  _ dead?!” _

“Is this some part of Morgana’s schemes?!”

“One...one thing at a time please,” Merlin muttered weakly, clenching his fists and digging his fingernails into skin. The collective noise was overwhelming. He could feel the panic rising in him and he forced it down. Now was far from a good time to have an episode. His friends seemed to notice how anxious he was and their voices petered out as Merlin took a deep breath. 

“Yes, this is the future. For you at least, it is. This is my present. And...it’saboutfifteenhundredyearsinthefuture,” Merlin finished hurriedly, hoping beyond hope that they wouldn’t catch the end of it. 

“What was that last bit, Merlin?” Gwaine asked in a teasing voice, but his eyes betrayed the concern he held for Merlin. 

“You’re fifteen hundred years in the future…” Merlin closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to see their reaction. 

_ “What?” _ Arthur spoke, his voice hoarse. Merlin opened his eyes to look his king, surprised by the fear in his eyes.  _ _ “If you’re not from our time, how’d you get here? Why is…  _ this  _ your present? Did magic send you here, and you’ve just been living here, trapped?”

“Magic didn’t transport me here like you, no,” Merlin replied, ignoring the other questions. He didn’t want Arthur to know the truth. Whether the king reacted with anger or pity, it might just destroy Merlin. 

“ _ Then how did you get here?”  _ Arthur pressed further, teeth clenched. It was already too late. Arthur had figured it out. 

“I lived through it all. Never aging, never dying,” Merlin ground out, looking at all of the shocked faces before him. 

“Only sorcerers could achieve such a thing.  _ You have magic!”  _ Arthur shouted, eyes alight with anger. Merlin nodded, using what little strength he had left. The panic was back now, worse than before. His chest was tight, his head ached, and his eyes burned.

“I trusted you! I thought you...that you were my  _ friend!”  _ Arthur took a threatening step towards him. 

“Why are we really here?! Perhaps  _ you  _ brought us here for some evil plan! You must have killed us a long time ago and wanted the pleasure of doing it again! You sorcerers are all the same.  _ Evil to the core,”  _ Arthur spat and Merlin fought a sob, taking a step back. Arthur took another step after him. 

“Arthur, I…” Merlin tried, now openly crying, and Arthur went red in the face at the sound of his name. 

_ “Don’t you dare call me that!”  _ The king all but screamed. “You have no right to address me as a...as a...a  _ friend!  _ You lost that right the moment you decided to practice magic and  _ betrayed  _ Camelot!”

“Sire, I’m sorry-!” Merlin cried but was cut off harshly as Arthur reared his fist back and punched him  _ hard,  _ sending the warlock crashing to the floor. 

Their companions cried out at the sudden action and Arthur spun around to face them. The king seemed surprised to see them, meaning he must have forgotten they’d had an audience. Arthur looked at all of them, lingering on Gwen’s tears before looking back at Merlin. Arthur’s gaze hardened at the sight of him and turned on his heel, leaving the flat and slamming the door behind him. 

The loud crack that resonated through the room sent reality crashing down on Merlin, sending him into a full-blown anxiety attack. He struggled for air, clawing at his throat, his scalp, his face to the point of drawing blood. Hot tears streamed down his face and the room seemed to fold in on itself crushing him. 

“No, no, nonono,  _ please _ ,” Merlin muttered, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and rocking back and forth, trying to calm himself. It wasn’t working. 

“Merlin,” a soft voice called, giving him pause. “Merlin,” it called again, this time dragging his hands away from his face and holding them gently.

“Look at me, Merlin,” it asked, and he complied.  _ Gwen.  _ “Take a deep breath. That’s it,” she coaxed, smiling when he tried to take in a breath. At first it was strangled and difficult, but it got easier with each inhale and exhale. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen whispered sadly, pulling him into her arms. Merlin melted into her embrace, lulled into a restless sleep by her sweet voice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really wanted to write the mental health side of things for merlin in this. I feel like this is something he would genuinely deal with after seeing all of his friends die, and then constantly watching people age and live without him. most of this is written based off of what i've personally experienced (i've been diagnosed with severe anxiety and some episodes can be pretty bad) so it may not be exactly a universal experience, but more my take on it. 
> 
> thank you for reading! i hope you have a wonderful day!


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a little bit longer to post, classes started up again and I've been busy. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

_ Fifteen hundred years ago… _

Merlin threw spell after spell at the clearing, hoping to figure out what just happened. Tracking spells proved useless, not for lack of trying, but because his friends were literally nowhere. There was no trace of their existence. It was as if they had ceased to exist!

“Come on…” Merlin muttered, casting another spell in the hopes of tracing the magic that had caused the sudden disappearance of his friends. He searched, going deeper and deeper, until...he stopped cold in his tracks. 

Something dark and powerful blocked him, sending chills all over Merlin’s body. The spell was incomprehensibly powerful, something the warlock had never seen the likes of before. 

“Not so powerful now without your friends, are you?”

Merlin spun around, eyes widening as a burst of magic was thrown at him before everything went black. 

* * *

_ Present _

Gwaine watched in horror as Arthur struck Merlin, sending his frail body down to the floor, too shocked to intervene. In just a matter of minutes, their entire world had changed and Arthur had laid a hand on Merlin. Could such an act be forgiven?

Arthur looked back at them as Merlin heaved for air on the floor. Gwaine challenged the king’s surprised look with one of disgust, and Arthur quickly moved along, eager to hide from it. Fury rolled in the knight’s gut as Arthur’s gaze hardened at the sight of Merlin, his  _ friend,  _ weak and crying. 

When the door slammed shut, their king on the other side, things got infinitely worse very quickly. 

Merlin screamed and screamed and screamed and  _ screamed,  _ only pausing to choke in air. Gwaine felt tears rolling down his cheeks at the sight of it, desperately wanting to help but unsure of how to go about it. The conundrum was solved for him, however. 

Gwen rushed forward, kneeling in front of Merlin and gently taking his hands, ignoring the blood underneath his fingernails. She spoke to him gently, getting him to relax in a way only she could. Gwaine had to look away when she pulled his head into her lap and stroked his hair, humming a sweet tune. 

Gwaine’s heart broke for his friend.

He’d suspected that Merlin had magic for some time now. It didn’t matter that he’d hidden it. Gwaine understood keeping secrets, after all. He had always feared Arthur’s reaction, but seeing it in person was far worse than any scenarios Gwaine could have imagined up on his own. 

A soft whisper pulled him out of his musings. “He’s asleep…” Gwen started, “we should get him into his bed. Would one of you…?” She asked, and Gwaine immediately stepped forward. He carefully slipped his arms underneath Merlin and lifted him into the air, trying not to wake him. 

After the living area and kitchen were three doors and Gwaine jerked his head at the knights, gesturing for them to open the doors. Behind one was some kind of modern privy (if what Merlin said was to be believed, that they really  _ were  _ in the future) and behind another was a room used for storage. 

Beyond the third door, however, was a room that looked so  _ Merlin  _ that it was undeniably his. The bed remained unmade and a book was left on the bedside table open and facedown. The walls were covered in photos and bookshelves. A scent of herbs permeated the room. 

Gwaine set his friend down gently and pulled the bedsheets up over him before exiting and shutting the door quietly behind him. 

“Someone should go after Arthur,” Leon spoke up almost immediately, but his eyes still flickered uneasily to where they knew Merlin lay. 

Almost all of them spoke up at the same time, offering to go find their king. Some, like Gwaine, may not have had the purest of intentions in going, though. Sure, Gwaine would try to talk Arthur down and make him see reason, but he still deserved a good smack upside the head for what he’d done to Merlin. 

“Listen, I knew about the, you know… the magic, before this all went down. I’m probably the best person for the job right now. Not that you wouldn’t be great, my lady,” Gwaine added on hurriedly, watching as he got some surprised looks and approving nods. 

“Not to worry, Gwaine,” Gwen grumbled, “I don’t think my husband would be very pleased with what I have to say anyway.”

Elyan laughed darkly. “That’s an understatement. I get that he doesn’t always trust magic, but he already promised to protect the druids! Plus, it’s Merlin,” he offered as if it was a worthy explanation. To them, it was. 

“It’s settled, then? I should probably go after him before he hurts himself,” Gwaine said before turning an existing Merlin’s home, much calmer than how the king had done it just minutes earlier. 

Arthur wasn’t in the immediate vicinity, but Gwaine forced himself not to worry about it. The knight retraced the path Merlin had led them on down to the staircase. Gwaine ran down quickly, his feet pounding against the stairs. Looking over the railing, he saw a flash of golden hair before it disappeared. 

“Dammit,” Gwaine grumbled, hurrying his pace. Reaching the end, he followed where Arthur had gone. 

“Arthur, mate! Come on,” Gwaine called, only managing to get the king to glare at him over his shoulder before he stepped out of the building and into the bustling crowd. Gwaine ran after him, desperate not to lose sight of him in the strange new world. 

Gwaine latched onto Arthur’s wrist, yanking him back. “Let me be,” Arthur growled, trying to pull free, but the knight was adamant in his grip. “Gwaine!” He shouted sharply. 

“No, I’m not leaving unless it’s with you,” Gwaine began. “How could you ever doubt Merlin? His loyalty, his  _ friendship?”  _

“You heard him just as well as I, Gwaine. He confessed to practicing magic.”

“It’s not really about the magic, is it?” Arthur wouldn’t meet his eyes. The avoidance was answer enough. “You’re upset that he didn’t tell you in the first place,” Gwaine surmised, watching as Arthur’s eyes flickered with hidden pain. 

“I understand that you’re hurting, but right now Merlin,  _ your friend, _ is hurting too. You ever wonder why he didn’t tell you? It’s because of  _ this.  _ When you reacted angrily, you confirmed every one of his fears,” Gwaine told him, congratulating himself silently when Arthur finally looked up. 

“You’re… right, I suppose. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did,” Arthur replied, chastising himself. “But it was still wrong of him to keep something like that from me for so long,” he continued, gaze hardening a little. 

Gwaine chose to let the comment slide. He’d made enough leeway to calm Arthur down, and seeing as how they were in the future, Arthur and Merlin would have plenty of time to work it out between themselves. 

“Let’s get back inside, eh? All this modern stuff gives me the creeps,” Gwaine exaggerated disgusted shivers, looking around at all the glass towers, the carriages moving without horses, and the modern folk that all spoke gibberish. It really was rather unsettling. 

Arthur chuckled a little. “I still find it hard to believe myself…”

As the two made their way inside, Gwaine allowed his thoughts to dwell on Merlin. Had the man really been alive for so long? Had it changed him? The sight of his friend so fragile certainly led him to believe so. If- no, not if,  _ when  _ -they returned home, would this Merlin be alright? His Merlin was waiting on them back in Camelot (probably confused out of his mind) and Gwaine already missed his friend. 

Arthur looked a little sheepish when they were back in front of their friends, trying his best to avoid Gwen’s glare. Gwaine smiled a little at the sight of it. 

“Where’s Merlin?” Arthur finally asked. 

“Asleep. Recovering,” Leon replied, sounding a little awkward. Arthur winced.

“I know I owe all of you an apology. Merlin most of all. The way I reacted was wrong. I...know I can’t take it back. I wish I could.”

Their gazes softened a little at the sight of regret in Arthur’s eyes. Gwaine clapped Arthur on the shoulder. “Well, mate, all you can do now is beg Merlin to forgive you!” Arthur turned to glare at him, and Gwaine noticed the others turned affronted stares on him. “Sorry, sorry, bad timing,” he offered sheepishly. 

While they waited on Merlin to wake, they once again tried to explore the strange home. Gwaine pulled a book off the shelf. The names ‘Anna and Elizabeth’ were written across the spine of it in Merlin’s handwriting, and it was one of the older selections in the living area. 

When Gwaine opened the book, he froze. It seemed to contain what could only be tiny paintings. They were so exquisite and accurate that it almost had to be due to some of the modern technology Merlin had been telling them about. The lack of paint strokes corroborated the idea. 

The images didn’t contain many colors, ranging from blacks to greys to whites, and the material seemed to have yellowed with age. The face of a beautiful woman stared up at him. Beside it was another photo, this time containing Merlin. The woman wore a white gown and held a bouquet of long, draping flowers. Merlin was stood beside her, hands clasped in front of him. He wore some kind of formal, yet unfamiliar, clothing. A date was written in the space beneath the photo.  _ 15th of April, 1868.  _

Both of them appeared in the pages that followed, although the woman seemed to be the focus of the book. There were more formal images in the beginning, but slowly more and more sketches were added to the pages. In them, the woman smiled and the artist seemed to capture a sense of life and happiness that wasn’t there in the detailed images. 

Then, there was a third figure. She first appeared as a babe held in the woman’s arms in one of those detailed images, wearing a small white gown. The date beneath the image read  _ 4th of September, 1873. _ The babe appeared in many sketches as well. As he turned to the next page, he saw an image of Merlin holding the young girl, a fond smile on his face. 

Eventually, something changed in the book. The woman stopped appearing, and it was just Merlin and the child. Something seemed lacking in their expressions. Both sketches and detailed images depicted her growth until he finally reached the last page where the child, now a grown woman, wore a gown similar to that of the first woman in the first few images, standing next to a new man.  _ 20th of May, 1895,  _ was the date beneath. 

Gwaine took in a sharp breath at the implications of the book. “He’s had a family,” he whispered, though whether it was to himself or the others, he didn’t know. His friends looked up from what they’d been doing to the book in his hands. Arthur approached, taking the book from his shaking hands.

The king sat the book down at a table in the center of the room, himself taking a seat on one of the strange modern chairs. The others sat around him in various spots, but they all had a view of the book. Arthur opened it up, letting them linger on the first page. 

“She’s beautiful!” Gwen gasped at the sight of the woman. The others stared intently at the image of what could have only been the couple on their wedding day. Arthur turned the page, and Gwaine watched as they all looked on in fascination. 

“How is it possible for those paintings to have such detail?” Leon asked, voice soft in awe. 

“It’s incredible,” Percival added. 

Arthur started to turn the next page, but the sound of a door cracking open drew their attention.  _ Merlin.  _

The poor man looked nervous and tired. His eyes were rimmed red and he sported a growing fist-shaped bruise on his jaw. Merlin stared out at all of them, wringing his hands. No one spoke, all holding their breath. 

“Wha… what are you all doing?” Merlin asked, stifling a yawn. The way they were all situated around the book probably looked a little odd. Merlin took a step forward and drew in a breath. “Oh,” he whispered. His weary expression had morphed to take on a tender smile. 

Merlin approached the table and picked up the book, taking it over to the bookshelf. Gwaine saw him flip to the image of the woman and the child, before pressing fingers to his lips and then to the page, closing his eyes. 

When he opened them, he closed the book and placed it back on the shelf. The finality of it gave Gwaine chills. 

Arthur sprung to his feet, gulping nervously “Merlin, can we talk?”

Merlin turned to Arthur, looking like he might be sick, but nodded. Gwaine watched as they walked into Merlin’s room, hoping they could work things out between them.

* * *

“Merlin,” Arthur began, and Merlin tried to keep his expression neutral. “It was wrong of me to call you those awful things, and I…”

“I know you’re not a traitor, that there’s no way in hell you would ever try to hurt us. I get that, and I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I lashed out, and hurt you in the process. There aren’t words to express how much I want to take it back. I am... _ so  _ sorry…”

Merlin’s eyes widened. Arthur was apologizing? That was unlike the king. “Arthur…” Merlin said, trying to come up with words. 

“You don’t have to accept it now. If you never do, I… I would understand. I have to know, though. Why did you never tell me? I had always hoped you’d be able to come to me with your problems. I guess I should’ve made it clearer I was your friend,” Arthur told him, eyes downcast, looking dejected and vulnerable. 

“No, no, you don’t understand!” Merlin started adamantly, and Arthur’s head jerked up. “I didn’t tell you  _ because  _ you were my friend,” he paused here, noting Arthur’s confused expression. “I didn’t want to put you in a position where you had to choose between me and your father. It wouldn’t have been fair to you.”   
  


“What about after? Back home, it’s been almost a year since my father died, and you never came forward,” Arthur asked, perplexed. 

“Then… Then it was about keeping your friendship. You meant  _ everything  _ to me, and the idea of losing that, it, well, it frightened me. I wasn’t sure how you’d react and our friendship was too important to risk.

I’ve had centuries to think over it and dwell on my mistakes, and I regretted not telling you earlier. In the end, you did find out, and you forgave me. I’m sorry I was too selfish to tell you,” Merlin finished, his voice full of emotion. 

“I...see,” Arthur replied, sounding choked up. “You’re a good man, Merlin. Don’t ever lose that part of yourself.”

Merlin froze.

_ I don’t want you to change. I want you...to always...be you.  _

Merlin choked on a sob as he threw his arms around Arthur, crying harder when the man stiffened uncomfortably. 

He wept for the friend he’d lost so long ago, and for the man before him, for all that he was familiar, they were strangers to each other. 

* * *

Somewhere, a man in armor that glistened in the sun stepped out of a lake, drawing in a breath for the first time in a  _ very  _ long time…

* * *

feel free to follow me on tumblr! I post merlin rants and jokes, plus you may just get glimpses of new chapters and/or works

<https://fictionalinfinity.tumblr.com/>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! New chapter up soon


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin helps his friends get acclimated, and they do some learning of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have so much motivation for this ahhhh i love writing this story! thank you so much for all of your feedback i love you all
> 
> enjoy!!

Merlin composed himself and tried not to think about the difference between this Arthur and  _ his  _ Arthur. “Let’s uh…let’s rejoin them, shall we?” he offered, wiping away at his eyes. Arthur nodded, and they left his room. 

His friends were talking amongst themselves in hushed voices, stopping when they noticed their entrance. Gwen stood up, hefting her skirts to run at him and throw her arms around him. The force of it knocked the air out of him, but Merlin returned her embrace with equal vigor. Her scent hit him, something he’d forgotten until that moment, sending a pang of homesickness through him. 

“I’m glad you’re alright. You had me so worried,” Gwen said when she pulled away, and he tried to smile at her.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me,” Merlin tried to brush her concern off, but he saw her frown a little. The others didn’t seem dissuaded by his words either. 

Merlin tried to change the topic quickly. “So, magic brought you here. It’ll take magic to take you home again. I’m assuming you all want to get home as quickly as possible?” He asked, keeping his tone light. They nodded. 

“I’ve got some old texts I can look through, see if I can find a spell or something to send you back. Thing is, I keep those at my home in Glastonbury. I own a shop that I’ll need to make sure is in good hands before I just take off,” he explained. 

“Where’s Glastonbury?” Elyan asked, tilting his head in curiosity. 

“Oh, it’s uh... near the Lake of Avalon,” Merlin said, wincing at the name which reminded him of all he’d lost. It was always easier to refer to that place in modern terms. It had been many years since he’d taken residence there. 

“What’s this about you owning a shop?” Arthur asked, quirking an amused brow. 

“Oh, it’s just a little apothecary of sorts, down in Kensington. Pretty close to the V&A-...” Merlin trailed off when he noticed he’d lost them. “Sorry, not that you’d know what that is. I’m just used to giving directions, I suppose…” 

“It sounds lovely, Merlin,” Gwen smiled up at him. The others agreed with her. 

“You must all be hungry. I’m not much for cooking in these days, so why don’t I go get us all some food,” Merlin offered, watching their expressions light up. He chuckled at their enthusiasm. 

Merlin grabbed his oyster card and wallet before moving to step outside. Before he left, however, he poked his head back inside. “No more snooping!” Merlin ordered them, knowing they wouldn’t listen. It didn’t hurt to try, though. 

When the door closed behind him, Merlin rested his head on the frame. Taking a deep breath, he relished in the feeling of being away from their prying eyes. Their pity and worry were suffocating, and he was glad to getaway. 

* * *

“I’m gonna go check out his room,” Gwaine said once Merlin left. Arthur rolled his eyes but found his curiosity pulling him that way too. 

“He just told you not to!” Guinevere chastised, but she too looked a little intrigued. 

“Don’t you want to know what he’s been up to all these years? Not even a little?” Gwaine tried, smiling victoriously when she finally nodded. 

They all went inside Merlin’s room, the bedchamber feeling much more cramped than earlier with all of them in it. Arthur wandered over to a bedside table, picking up an image encased in a clear glass frame. Like earlier, it too lacked many colors, but it was newer material than those in the book from earlier. It depicted Merlin with a large group of men, his arms slung around the shoulders of those beside him, grinning ear to ear.

In fact, all of them were smiling. He would go as far as to say that some looked  _ ecstatic.  _ They all seemed to be wearing the same uniform and hats. Flipping the image over, he noticed Merlin’s familiar scrawl. The message read  _ We’ve won! 9 May 1945.  _ Won what, he didn’t know, but it must have been important. 

Arthur took one last look at the image before setting it down where he’d found it, and gazing out over the room. Percival was rifling through a drawer full of letters while Leon and Guinevere looked over a book of sketches. Elyan and Gwaine were looking at images hung on the wall.

“Guys,” Percival called, getting their attention.

“Yes?” Arthur replied, walking over to him. 

“This letter, it’s about the women from the book Gwaine showed us,” he explained, and Gwaine ran over, snatching the letter from Percival’s hands. 

“Dear Arthur…” Gwaine started, then scoffed. “Of course it’s addressed to you, princess. Figures.”

“ _ Dear Arthur, _

_ I’m back from the trenches on account of injury. Everyone tells me I’m lucky, but I know I’m not. I’d much rather be back there protecting my friends. It feels an awful lot like when I lost my magic before Camlann,”  _ Gwaine stopped, frowning. “That sounds familiar.”

“Merlin asked us earlier if the name Camlann meant anything to us. I guess it must be important,” Leon shrugged, looking just as bewildered as the rest of them. Gwaine continued reading. 

_ “Today Elizabeth told me that John intends to join the army and that she will accompany him as a field nurse. Now more than ever I wish I could go back into those bloody awful trenches, just to keep them from harm. Lizzie is the only one keeping me sane now and I don’t want her to go. I have a bad feeling about all of this.  _

_ The world united in war makes the battle of Camlann look so insignificant. Despite that, it still hurts to think about that fateful day which affected me so deeply,”  _ Gwaine paused again at the name, humming in thought. 

_ “Elizabeth and John remind me of you and Gwen, you know. You, fighting valiantly on the field, and dear Gwen working beside Gaius to help the wounded. She has Anna’s spirit, though. That frightens me most of all. I’ve seen how sickness spreads in those field hospitals, and I don’t want to lose her the way I lost Anna. Elizabeth is calling me now, so I must go. If you are to meet my sweet girl in Avalon, treat her well. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that for a long time. _

_ Your friend always, Merlin.”  _

“The world united in war? How is that at all possible?” Elyan asked, brow furrowed in concern. Arthur wished he knew how to answer him. 

“There’s another letter in the parcel,” Percival said, sounding surprised. He pulled out a small slip of parchment which had been folded up many times over. They waited with bated breath as Percival unfolded it, tensing when Percival’s eyes widened. 

“ _ Lizzie’s dead.”  _

“No,” Guinevere gasped, clutching at her heart. 

“What’s the date on it? How soon after the first letter was it written?” Arthur asked, worried that Merlin’s fears of his daughter dying on a battlefield had come to fruition. 

“This one’s from the 11th of July, 1915. Gwaine, when’s yours from?”

“5th of January, 1915,” was all Gwaine said. Arthur took in a sharp breath. 

“What else is there?” Leon asked, peering over Percival who was blocking the view of the drawer. 

“No. No more. This is an invasion of privacy and we’ve already seen too much. If Merlin wants us to know, he’ll tell us,” Guinevere ordered them, walking around them and out of the room. Arthur had to agree with her. 

If all of that had happened over a matter of months, how much had Merlin loved and lost in the span of a  _ millennium?  _ Each revelation made Arthur hate himself more and more for his reaction to Merlin’s magic. 

They all filed out of Merlin’s bedchamber, feeling dejected. Arthur found Guinevere out in the living area, sitting with her head in her hands. He took a seat beside her, unsure of what to say. 

“This all feels so unbelievable,” Elyan started, looking out of one of the windows, “how can we be sure this is real? That it’s not some part of the spell that attacked us in the field?”

Arthur felt something cold clench at him just at the mere thought of it. There wasn’t a way of proving this reality, but something in his gut told him it was true. That the man who lived here, alone, was  _ truly  _ Merlin.

“There’s no way to prove it isn’t real, either,” Arthur posed. “Perhaps the purpose of whatever sent us here was to get us out of the way. Who’s to say if they knew what awaited us on the other side of it? Merlin, or if what you are suggesting is an imposter of Merlin, hasn’t done us any harm, nor has this world. Merlin stood there and took my abuses, and now he is still acting like a servant, going to fetch us food,” Arthur grimaced at the end, reminded of his terrible reaction. 

“You make a good point I suppose. Won’t stop me from being on edge, though,” Elyan shrugged, returning to the view of the sun setting. 

“I agree. We keep our guard up, see how this plays out. We can be prepared for this to go either way. If it proves that Merlin can get us home, all the better for it,” Leon added, and the others nodded, looking thoughtful. They lapsed into silence, thoughts occupied with worry.

Then the door opened and Arthur nearly jumped in fright. He placed a hand on his beating heart, trying his hardest to look like he hadn’t just been scared. Merlin bustled in carrying some sort of bags, their contents smelling rather delicious. 

“Honest Burgers. Best burgers in London,” Merlin tried for a smile. “I got everyone their own, plus rosemary chips. They’re to die for.” Merlin carried the bags into the kitchen, setting them down on the table. Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“What are...burgers?” Percival asked, sounding bewildered. Merlin blushed. 

“Guess I… forgot you have no idea what anything is called these days. Sorry. Beef wasn’t that common back in Camelot, but I’m sure you’ve all heard of it or had it one time or the other. They’re beef patties between pieces of bread and other condiments. The chips are just sliced potatoes that are cooked and seasoned with rosemary,” Merlin explained, looking sheepish. 

“And what makes the cows honest?” Guinevere asked, perfectly serious, but Merlin burst out laughing. Arthur frowned. 

“Sorry, not laughing at you,” Merlin said in between breaths. “It’s just been a while since anyone,  _ anywhere,  _ has posed a question like that. It just means their meat is sourced cleanly, that’s all.”

Merlin divvied out what he called ‘to-go boxes’ and told them to eat up. Arthur lifted the lid off of his and only grew more confused. He poked the bread warily, reeling back in surprise when he found it to be warm. 

Merlin must have noticed. “I ah, I kept them warm with magic. If it bothers you I can take the spell off,” he offered gently, but Arthur could see the fear behind his eyes. 

“It’s fine,” Arthur forced out roughly, knowing he was going to have to get used to it eventually. 

Arthur found he rather liked the taste of the ‘honest burgers’, and from the looks of the others, they did too. The ‘chips’ were a pleasant surprise as well. Unlike the boiled potatoes they had at home, these tasted… incredible. He tried to think of other words, but none would come that seemed satisfactory. 

Merlin was the first to finish his food, and then he was bustling about the room, piling up linens and pillows from closets. Arthur followed him with his eyes, watching as he methodically folded sheets and organized items. He seemed to have permanent worry lines across his forehead. 

“What shall we do with these?” Leon asked, holding up his empty box. 

“Put it in the kitchen. I’ll toss them out later. You liked it, then?” Merlin waved towards the other room before looking at them hopefully. 

“That was the best darn thing I’ve ever eaten. How has Camelot not come up with that already? Future people know how to  _ eat!”  _ Gwaine laughed, licking the remaining grease off of the tip of his fingers.

“I’m glad,” Merlin replied, laughing at Gwaine’s antics. “Each time has its own problems, but the food is definitely a perk. I’d trade it all for one more good day in Camelot, though,” Merlin trailed off, suddenly somber. He ran a hand down his face before squaring his shoulders and finishing his previous task. 

Arthur looked at the man worriedly, knowing he wasn’t quite alright, but unsure of how to help. He lost sight of him, however, when Merlin went into his room. 

Moments later, Merlin emerged carrying a pile of clothes. “This is just something to sleep in, and I’ve enchanted them to stretch to fit all you. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but it’s all I’ve got to offer. I’ll take you round to some shops tomorrow after work so you have a few outfits to get by in,” Merlin said and began to pass around some nightclothes. 

With Guinevere in the ‘bathroom’, as Merlin called it, changing, Arthur and the other men swapped out their chainmail for the soft fabrics Merlin had offered them. They were surprisingly comfy, and softer than what he knew was the top-of-line clothing he wore as royalty. He could get used to it, he thought. 

When they were all together again, Merlin began to speak again. “Some of you will have to sleep on the floor, but the bedding should keep you comfortable. You can sort out for yourselves who gets the couch. Gwen, Arthur, you can have my bed-” 

Guinevere cut him off. “No, Merlin.” He turned to look at her, surprised by the refusal. “You should sleep in your own bed and get a good’s night rest. You’ve earned it, and if you have to go to work in the morning, you’ll need proper sleep.”

Merlin protested a few more times until finally Arthur intervened and put his foot down, declaring once and for all that Merlin was to have the bed. Then they parted ways, gave Guinevere the couch to sleep on, and went to bed. 

* * *

Arthur was sleeping rather peacefully when something pulled him into consciousness. He looked around blearily, momentarily surprised by the strange surroundings before he realized where he was and what had happened. 

No one else seemed to have been woken. He strained his ears for a moment, trying to hear. For a moment, there was nothing. Then he heard it. 

Crying. 

It seemed to be coming from Merlin’s room. Arthur stood up and maneuvered carefully around his sleeping friends to reach the bedchamber. He opened the door, slipped inside, and caught sight of Merlin. 

The man was kicking the sheets around and his face was scrunched up pain. He was mumbling something unintelligible, clearly in distress. 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, shaking his shoulder to rouse him. He gave no reaction, so Arthur tried again.

Merlin shot up, gasping in a breath. “Billy, no! Don’t hurt him!” He cried out, reaching desperately for someone long gone. 

“Shh, Merlin, calm down,” Arthur told him gently, laying him back down on the pillow. 

“A… Arthur?” Merlin looked up at him, surprised to see him there. “I… I’m sorry… did I wake you?” He asked, desperately wiping away tears and looking guilty. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Arthur assured him. “Will you be alright if you get back to sleep?” He asked. Merlin nodded, looking smaller than he’d ever seen the man. 

“Alright, if you’re sure. Go to sleep now, I’ll see you in the morning,” Arthur said, turning to leave, but a cold hand latched onto his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Please, don’t leave,” Merlin begged, looking up at him with tears pooling in his eyes. Arthur stood there gaping for a moment, surprised by the desperation he saw. 

“Alright,” he said finally, laying on top of the bed stiffly. Merlin rested his face against Arthur’s arm, and the king waited until Merlin’s breathing evened out before he too went to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you ever get a chance to eat at honest burgers you should definitely go- it's honestly really good. That's all I have to say about that lol. I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin thinks about what all of this chaos means, and Arthur finally catches on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i felt like the merlin pov in this chapter was very...dry and boring to say the least. kind of had to 'brute-force' my way through it, but oh well. It's there, it's insightful, but it's boring as all get out lol. the rest is pretty interesting. anyway, enjoy!

Merlin groaned when his shrill alarm began to scream at him. Great. Another day of waiting for Arthur. His heart panged at the thought, recalling his strange and vivid dream from the night before. 

_ “What _ is _ that?!” _ A voice shouted from beside him, and Merlin looked over so quickly that he could hear his neck crack painfully. He gaped for a moment before it all came rushing back. _ Not a dream, then, _Merlin decided, then began to blush at the memory of his actions in the night. 

Merlin reached over, ended the beeping coming from his phone and slid his legs off of the side of the bed. “Just my alarm. Means it’s time for me to get up and go to work,” Merlin answered, stifling a yawn.

Arthur seemed affronted by the idea. “Does it have to be so _ loud? _ Although I suppose if even _ you _can’t get up on your own after so long, it must have to be incredibly annoying.” The king said it so casually that Merlin choked out a laugh. He’d forgotten how Arthur’s voice was in the morning, and how his hair got scruffed up from sleeping on a pillow. 

The amusement faded, though. All this was just a cruel reminder of what he’d lost, and Merlin would have to return his friends to their own time, losing them all over again. 

He sighed, pushed the thoughts out of his mind and left the room. Beyond his bedroom, the knights were still sprawled out across the floor while Gwen slept peacefully on the couch. Merlin smiled at the sight of it before carefully stepping over them to get into the kitchen. Arthur followed him, sitting down at the table and tapping his fingers against the wood. 

His cupboards were mostly barren, seeing as he ate out most meals these days (modern food was pretty great, and cooking for one was always so depressing). There were however a few packets of oatmeal for when Merlin didn’t have time to stop anywhere before work.

The commotion in the kitchen must have woken the others because soon the kitchen was full of people. 

“Good morning Merlin,” Gwen greeted, covering a soft yawn with her hand. 

“Morning, Merls,” Gwaine grinned, taking the bowl of oatmeal that Merlin offered. Soon enough they were all eating and Merlin could go get ready. 

When he returned, dressed and ready, briefcase strap slung over his shoulders, most of them had finished their food. It was strange to see them all in pajamas and sitting in his little flat when they had been immortalized in his memory as great figures dressed in armor and silks, seated around their round table. 

“Alright then, I’m gonna...go,” Merlin began, gesturing to the door behind him, “I’ll be home in a few hours with some clothes for you all to wear, and then we’ll take the train to Glastonbury. You’re from a time before electricity so I am sure you can find something to entertain yourself with. Help yourself to any food you can find if you get hungry,” he explained. 

After he said goodbye he began to move towards the door, but a voice stopped him. 

“Are you going to eat anything before you go, Merlin?” Arthur asked, looking at him in what could only be concern. The others turned to look at him expectantly. Merlin avoided Arthur’s gaze, trying not to think of himself begging Arthur not to leave him last night. 

“I’ll be fine,” Merlin replied, giving Arthur a tight smile and exiting the flat. 

Going to work was a welcomed break from being at the flat. For as much joy he felt at seeing his friends again after so long, he felt twice as much agony from it. From knowing he’d lose them again. Destiny truly was cruel, and it had been proven every day since Arthur’s death. 

Perhaps Kilgharrah had been wrong. With each day that passed, he felt his faith in the prophecy weaken. He couldn’t imagine Albion could have a much greater ‘need’ than anything it had already experienced. If Arthur was supposed to rise at its greatest need, he was too late.

Maybe _ this _was the fulfillment of the prophecy. Had Merlin been forced to exist far longer than he should have so that when whoever cursed the king and his friends into the future, he would be there to help them get home? 

It hurt. 

It hurt to think that Merlin had lived only for this moment, to send his king back to a time of happiness and life and be left alone once again. Perhaps forever this time. 

Yes, Merlin _ could _make Arthur remain with him, but that would be a betrayal of all they had ever worked for. It would be selfish, and his selfishness was what had gotten Arthur killed in the first place. 

If watching people around him constantly living and dying had taught him anything, it was that being selfish was worthless in the long run. 

Merlin tried to keep his mind clear of those thoughts after that. Bustling around his shop kept him occupied. He made sure it could stay up and running while he was gone and promised his employees a little extra pay for their efforts. Time flew by quickly. 

Soon enough it was time for him to go, and then Merlin had to find clothes for his friends. “Bye, Mary,” Merlin smiled, walking towards the door, “take good care of the place!”

“I will! Now go, have fun on your vacation!” She called after him and Merlin gave her one last nod before exiting. 

The sky had just begun to pour when he stepped outside, so he walked as quickly as he could to the nearest clothing store. That was another task he could throw himself into, to keep his mind off of darker things. He allowed his lips to quirk into a smirk at the thought of his medieval friends confused endlessly by modern dress. 

* * *

_ One day ago… _

It was...silent. And dark. How had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was…

Oh, yes. That.

Arthur was dead. 

Merlin’s crying visage invaded his mind, his friend’s desperate calls permeated his thoughts. He’d been laying out by the lake not moments ago, fighting for his life, and now he was here. Wherever here was. 

_ “Arthur!” _A soft voice called out from somewhere in the darkness. Arthur jerked in surprise. 

“Who are you?” He called in return, trying to follow the sound of her voice.

_ “Open your eyes,” _she told him, sounding far away and close all at the same time. Arthur felt heat rise in his cheeks at the realization that it was in fact something he could do. He did as she asked. 

Arthur shouted. In his face was a _ woman _ with tendrils of hair floating out and framing her face. Wait, _ floating? _

They were underwater!

Arthur began to try and swim upwards, desperate not to drown but found his body weighed down by something. It only renewed his vigor, and he fought harder to reach the surface. 

_ “Be calm, my king,” _the woman said gently, resting her hand on his shoulder. Arthur stopped his attempts to swim, letting his arms fall to his side. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself, and looked the woman over.

She wore a dress that was similar to one out of Morgana’s wardrobe, but that was where the similarities ended. Her face was simple but pretty. Her smile was knowing, but about what he had not a clue. 

“Where am I?” He finally said, voice hoarse from disuse. Her eyes twinkled.

_ “You are in the Lake of Avalon, the gateway between life and death.” _

“So this is the afterlife, then?” Arthur asked, his mind going to all of those he’d left behind. Was it really true that he had died?

_ “No, my king,” _ she replied, her laughter like bells. _ “You have been dead quite a long time. It is time for you to return.” _

Arthur raised an eyebrow at her choice of words. “What is that supposed to mean?”

_ “It has been fifteen hundred long years since you perished at Mordred’s hand. You were always fated to return at Albion’s time of need, and the moment is now,” _ she answered, pressing a hand to the center of his chest. _ “My king, do you accept?” _

Fifteen _ hundred _years? Had he really been dead so long? All those important to him were surely dead. He would be returning to a land bereft of their love. Could he really go back?

_ My people are in danger, _ Arthur thought, _ I must. _

_ “I accept,” _Arthur answered, his voice reverberating with a foreign power. 

The woman smiled softly at him. _ “You will need help on your journey. Close your eyes.” _

With his eyes now closed, Arthur could only wonder what the woman had planned for him. After a moment, palms pressed against his eyes, and Arthur _ saw. _

He saw everything as it was, as it had been, and how it always would be. He saw existence. He saw time change, the world evolve, people living their lives, the universe expanding, _ Merlin. _

_ He saw Merlin. _

A man crippled by immortality. Forced to breathe as everything else suffocated. To love and lose again and again. Living only for death. _ Waiting. _

“Was that real?” Arthur asked once the experience was over. 

The woman nodded. _ “Everything you saw is how it has truly been in your absence.” _

“How is it that I am able to return?” Arthur questioned her further. If everything he had seen was true, then he knew that the Sidhe had prevented his return many a time. 

_ “Avalon exists outside of the barriers of time, and any beings who live there do as well. That includes the Sidhe, and currently, us. In a way, you have always been here, yet you haven’t even been born yet. You have already returned, yet you have not died yet. Simple constructs like these do not matter.” _

_ “There is one moment in time where things have differed from how they have always gone. The lady Morgana changed her plans, as I have already shown you. With your past self out of the way, Camelot is ripe for the taking. I suspect the Sidhe provided her with the spell to accomplish such a thing. However, it took their attention off of you.” _

_ “I can send you back to the one moment where they aren’t looking. You must ensure Morgana does not win control of the kingdom, or all will be lost. To do this, you must rescue Merlin from her care.” _

_ “While you do this, I will ensure that Merlin gets your younger self home. Without Courage, Strength, and Magic, the kingdom cannot survive. You must not waver, my king. Promise me you will not waver.” _

Arthur was taken aback by all the woman had said. He took a moment to comprehend all that she had told him, and all the complexities that went with it. The universe was much larger than he had ever thought, and it needed his help. 

“I promise,” he answered finally and the woman nodded in recognition. 

_ “Then go, my king, and save us all.” _

Something pulled at him, tugging him up through the water towards the surface, all while the woman looked up at him. 

“Wait!” Arthur shouted. “What was your name?”

_ “I am called the Lady of the Lake,” _ she called after him, _ “but Merlin knew me as Freya.” _

  
After one last glimpse of Freya smiling, he reached the surface. And so, a man in armor that glistened in the sun stepped out of a lake, drawing in a breath for the first time in a _ very _long time.

* * *

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope i didn't confuse anyone with my time-jargon. it's a concept i think about quite often, so it made a lot of sense. if you didn't get it, don't worry. thank you again for reading! i love reading all of your comments- they motivate me and fill with me with more happiness than you can imagine!!!


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking a trip leads to...interesting experiences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> found out i have to have surgery so i'm pumping as many of these out as i can before im loaded up on meds and cant write :)))
> 
> besides that, enjoy!

It was a few hours before Merlin returned from his job, and by the time the door opened, signaling his arrival, Arthur was out of his mind with boredom. They’d passed the time discussing theories, swapping stories, conversing, and Arthur was itching to get out of the ‘flat’. He wished for a training field to practice on so he could rid himself of tension. 

“I’m back,” Merlin greeted, “and I’ve brought clothes.”

“Ah, finally,” Arthur stood up to meet him. As comfortable as his current outfit was, the strangeness of it bothered him. 

“Did you get everything settled at your apothecary?” Elyan asked, though his eyes were on the clothing. It seemed he too was ready to get out of the baggy clothing. 

“Yep. All I really had to do was teach Mary how to make a natural remedy for one of the special orders and organize the new supplies. Easy enough work. Now, let’s see how well I did…” Merlin trailed off, lifting an item of clothing out of one of the bags. 

“Gwen, here you go,” Merlin smiled, offering her what seemed to be a very long, thin piece of fabric. 

Guinevere frowned. “I’m sorry, Merlin… Is this all of it?” She held up a very scandalously cut dress in front of her. The hem didn’t even reach her ankles!

“I’m sorry, Gwen, you’re not going to find much better than that in this day and age. You can wear your corset with it if you want, and I can… I can use magic to make it a little more like what you’re used to?” Merlin offered, then paled. “That is if you’re comfortable with it of course,” he added in a hurry. 

Guinevere looked saddened by his blatant fear of mentioning magic around them but didn’t comment on it. “Thank you, Merlin. I’ll just...try this on, then.” 

Once his wife had left the room, Merlin began to pull out their outfits. “These are called jeans. I figured you’d be most comfortable with them. They don’t really lace up like what you’re used to. Nowadays they’ve got these fantastic things called zippers, and then there’s a button to hold them in place,” Merlin explained, offering them all a pair of dark blue trousers, or ‘jeans’ as he had called them. 

Honestly, why did future people have to have such weird names for everything?

The men all traded their nightclothes for the jeans Merlin had given them. Arthur found himself frowning once they were on, and the others looked equally bewildered. 

“They’re… tight,” Percival said, stating what they were all thinking. 

“Yes, they are,” Merlin replied blankly. “Honestly, was  _ everything  _ a problem for you back then? I must have blocked that part of my memory out,” Merlin scoffed. They looked at him in concern, surprised by the outburst. Merlin had sounded genuinely annoyed, not like the usual teases they’d get from him back home. It was… unnerving. 

“Sorry, I’m just not in the greatest of moods, that’s all,” Merlin huffed out a breath, managing to look a little contrite. 

“What’s wrong then, mate? Something happen at work?” Gwaine asked, scanning Merlin up and down as if looking for something wrong.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just destiny, per usual. Nothing you need to worry about. Here are the shirts,” Merlin brushed them off, handing out some strange looking tunics for them to wear. 

After dressing, Arthur didn’t try to press Merlin any further, but something still tugged at his heart uncomfortably about the whole thing. He chose to focus on his new outfit instead. The whole ensemble was very odd and more tight-fitting than anything he’d ever worn. The fabric of the jeans was scratchy, but not in an unpleasant way. The shirt was simple, with a lower cut neckline, but the color surprised him. It was more vibrant than any of the dyes he’d ever worn in Camelot. 

The future had much to offer, it seemed. He might just miss it when he got home. 

It was then that Guinevere emerged from the other room. Arthur gaped. 

She wore a dress that hung over her frame loosely, cuffed at the shoulders, and only reaching down to her knees. He’d never seen any woman dress so freely, but on Guinevere, it looked beautiful. 

“Oh, Merlin, are you sure this is what women wear these days?” Guinevere fretted, trying to pull the dress down past her knees but failing.

“If anything, that’s one of the more modest selections,” Merlin laughed, and Guinevere paled at the thought. “If it really bothers you though, I did buy you some jeans and tops like the knights. I just thought you might be more comfortable in something familiar like a dress at first.”

“I suppose I’ll be alright for today. It’ll just take some getting used to is all,” she shrugged awkwardly, and Arthur walked over to her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“You look beautiful,” he told her, smiling when she blushed. 

“I’m going to pack a bag quickly, but then we really should get going if we want to make one of the next trains,” Merlin told them all. Arthur nodded, intrigued by the repeated mention of the ‘train’. Was it some creature they had to catch that would carry them to Glastonbury, like some sort of dragon?

Arthur supposed he’d find out soon enough because they were out of Merlin’s home and on the streets in a matter of minutes. 

The crowd swelled around them, moving past them in both directions in a hurried pace. A few times they’d almost lost Merlin, who’d sped up and been swallowed by the sea of people, before he’d return blushing, mentioning something about a force of habit. 

They reached water, and Arthur looked in amazement at the sheer number of magnificent bridges that crossed over. The ones back home were rickety and risky at best, made out of rotting wood. The ones before him were feats of fantastic measure. 

“So much has changed,” Leon marveled as they crossed one of the bridges, looking out at the structures that towered over them. 

“How do people build such things?” Guinevere asked, looking to Merlin. The man seemed rather unimpressed. 

“Humans have discovered many new materials since Camelot, and they’ve invented or improved the technology that helps put it all together. Manual labor isn’t what it used to be,” Merlin shrugged, soldiering on. “I guess when you’ve been there for it all to come together it’s not quite so...impressive.”

When they reached the ‘train station’ as Merlin called it, Arthur and the others were ordered to wait while Merlin paid for tickets. When he returned, Merlin passed out small slips of paper to each of them. 

“Alright, I don’t see this going well at all, so let’s just jump right in, shall we?” Merlin chuckled. The others frowned at him, confused by the words. 

“There’s a slot on those machines, and you need to put the paper in it, making sure it goes  _ completely _ in. It will pop back out on the other side, and the doors will open, allowing you to walk through. Don’t forget to pick the paper back up. Got it?” 

Arthur nodded slowly, processing the instructions. Merlin offered to show them, and Arthur watched as the machine worked, eyes widening as he watched it go. “Now you try!” Merlin called from the other side. 

“I’ll go first,” Gwaine told them haughtily, stepping up to the machine. The knight pressed the slip of parchment against it confidently. They waited. Nothing happened. Gwaine frowned, pushing the face of the ticket against the machine again. Once again, nothing happened. Gwaine laughed uneasily. “Uh, Merlin?”

“Oi, hurry it up!” Someone called from the growing line of people. 

“Ugh, Gwaine, you have to put the edge of the ticket through the slot-!” Merlin tried to explain, sounding exasperated. “Sir, could you help him?” He asked the man standing behind Gwaine. 

The man nodded, taking the ticket from Gwaine’s hand. “First time, mate?” He raised an eyebrow and Gwaine ducked from his gaze. The man slipped the paper through, and Gwaine took the walk of shame through the doors, picking up his ticket on the other side. 

After that, the process wasn’t perfect, but it was better. Leon went next, fumbling a little to get the ticket to go in the slot but getting it right in the end. Elyan and Gwen managed it a little easier, with the practiced hands of both a blacksmith and a servant. Arthur went after that, pleased when he didn’t do as poorly as Gwaine. Percival went last and, surprising everyone, got it in one try. 

“You lot are the worst,” Merlin laughed wholeheartedly as they made their way to the platform. “Gwaine, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush like that!”

Merlin sobered soon after that, looking between them and the ground tensely. The change in mood was odd, but at the moment Arthur didn’t press. The train arrived in a matter of minutes, and Guinevere clutched at his arm as the metal monstrosity rolled to a stop in front of them. The men's’ jaws dropped and Guinevere looked on with wide eyes. 

“Come on!” Merlin called, already having climbed inside. With trepidation, Arthur mounted the step onto the ‘train’, looking out over the seats. The others followed warily. 

“Sit wherever you want,” Merlin told them, and when Arthur’s knights sat down near each other, Merlin kept walking. Arthur looked at his wife, then at Merlin, then back to his wife. 

“Go see what’s wrong, Arthur. I’ll sit with Elyan,” she smiled at him nervously, still looking around the metal carriage. Arthur nodded and went to follow his servant.

Merlin had taken a seat by himself, and while he was rifling through the bag he’d brought, Arthur took the empty seat next to him. Merlin pulled a book from his bag and glanced over, doing a double-take when he saw the king. 

“Arthur!” Merlin exclaimed, placing a hand to his chest. “Sorry, I didn’t think…” he trailed off, before picking back up again. “Are you sure you don’t want to sit with the knights or Gwen?” 

“I’m sure they’ll be fine without me for a few hours,” Arthur rolled his eyes, falling into their usual banter for a moment before realizing who he was talking to and why. “Besides, I wanted to… check on you. You seemed tense earlier.”

“I’m fine, Arthur,” Merlin replied, trying to blow him off. He tried to open his book, flipping to one of the marked pages. 

“Are you sure? Because it didn’t seem-”

“I said I’m  _ fine!”  _ Merlin slammed his book shut, cutting him off and raising his voice. 

The train started moving, sending Merlin straight back into his seat, but Arthur hardly noticed, surprised by the tone he had never heard used by the man before now. 

The shock it of the train moving must have made Merlin realize what he’d just done because he looked up at Arthur with wide eyes and a slack jaw. “Arthur, I didn’t mean…”

“Clearly you did,” Arthur finished for him, cutting off the excuse that was about to come tumbling out of Merlin’s mouth. “Who’s Billy?”

Merlin’s eyes went even wider if that was at all possible. “How did you-?”

“You talk in your sleep,” Arthur merely replied. “So tell me, who was he?”

“He was a...a good friend. A really good friend,” Merlin replied, smiling to himself, lost in memory. 

“What happened to him?”

The smile soured. “We were fighting in France, at the Battle of the Bulge. You don’t know what guns are, so it’s...it’s hard to explain.”

“He...died?”

“Yeah,” Merlin answered roughly. 

Arthur watched as the man’s expression hardened and he turned to look out the window, feeling sorry for the man, knowing now that he wanted to be left alone. 

“I’m...sorry about all you’ve been through. If I could change your fate, I would,” Arthur told him firmly, standing up and walking back to his knights and wife.

If he’d stayed a moment longer, he would’ve seen Merlin’s head snap towards him, looking at the now empty space with tears in his eyes.

* * *

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! have an awesome day


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Glastonbury. Also, the Sidhe just won't leave them alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long! it was my birthday a few days ago so I spent a lot of time with family and friends. hope you enjoy!

Arthur left Merlin alone for the rest of the trip, and when Merlin came to collect them after arriving in Glastonbury, neither of them broached the subject of the earlier confrontation. Guinevere clutched his hand tightly for reassurance as they left the train station and climbed into a smaller metal contraption, which Merlin insisted on calling a ‘cab’. 

“So, Merls… Where are you taking us? Got a castle hidden away in the hills or something?” Gwaine asked, leaning over to the man who was for the most part silent. Merlin had to hide a little smile after the inquiry. 

“You could say that,” Merlin replied cryptically, leaving it at that. The cab pulled to a stop in front of a strip of buildings, and after paying, Merlin gestured for them to get out. 

“This is Tesco’s. I don’t actually have any food back at my place, and you lot need to eat, so…” Merlin offered as an explanation, shrugged, and lead them inside. 

Arthur felt his jaw go slack a little at the sight of it. Aisles stretched out before him, and if Merlin was to be believed about this place being a market for food, then it was more food than he’d ever seen in one place. Camelot’s feast did not compare in quantity. 

“So, does the future still have any good ale?” Gwaine asked, grinning, and they burst out laughing at the sound of his excitement. The happiness felt foreign after being stuck in this strange place for so long and always on edge. 

Merlin confirmed that they did, in fact, have good ale and that they called it beer, promising to pick Gwaine up a few cases. He told the rest of them that they were free to grab anything that intrigued them off the shelves and put it in the cart. 

As they perused the store, Arthur’s knights seemed to almost have a giddy excitement, throwing anything and everything into the cart. Merlin for his part only chuckled, gently warned them if he knew they wouldn’t like the food, and did his own meal planning. 

As they turned a corner, Arthur saw an older woman shopping. When she turned to glance at them, she dropped her basket in shock, bringing a hand to her mouth. “Matthew?” She gasped. 

Merlin’s gaze was drawn to her as if she had called him, and then his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Uh, no ma’am, sorry…” He answered softly, and the woman gave a shake of her head. 

“Sorry, you just reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago. You’re right of course, you’re much too young to be him,” she reasoned, and Merlin bent down to grab the basket for her. 

“Perhaps you meant Matthew, my uh...grandfather?” He offered. “Everyone always said we looked very... _ similar.” _

“You’re Matthew’s grandson? Tell me, whatever happened to him? I was still just a little girl when he left Glastonbury,” the woman asked, sounding delighted to finally hear news of Merlin’s supposed grandfather.

“Oh, he… passed on a few years ago. After the war, he cooped himself up in the old estate for a while before he moved to London. I run the apothecary he opened,” Merlin told her, and she nodded solemnly. 

“Well…” the woman sighed deeply. “I’m glad he found himself a good family, if you’re anything to go by. I hope you all enjoy your time here,” she waved goodbye before continuing her shopping. 

Merlin continued on pushing the trolley as if nothing had happened, throwing a few boxes of food, while the others followed albeit confusedly. 

“Who was she?” Percival asked, the first to break the silence that had befallen the group. 

“Her name’s Margaret. She’s old enough to remember the last time I lived in Glastonbury. One of the last few I suppose,” Merlin shrugged lamely. “Just another reminder of how I old I really am,” the man laughed almost darkly, and Arthur felt a surge of pity for Merlin. 

It seemed that living for so long had given Merlin a special talent for finding ways to shut them all up, for no one said a word after that. None of them dared to ask where they were going next or even how long it would take when Merlin led them out of the store and onto a path by the road. 

Arthur had seen such behaviors in some of his father’s older knights. Men who had never recovered from war or capture. Men who’s mood changed as quick as the turn of a blade, who were prone to fits of terror in the night, haunted by their experiences. Men who had been driven to take matters into their own hands, no longer capable of living day to day. 

Merlin was such a man, after having lived so long and suffered so much. Although he would never admit it, Arthur knew that  _ his  _ Merlin’s happiness and joy was one of the things that made the man so...lovable, was the only word. To see the lackluster look in the man’s eyes and to know that his best friend was consigned to this horrible fate hurt more than it should. 

Guinevere slipped her hand into his, grabbing it tightly. Arthur looked towards her, surprised, and she tried to give him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Arthur,” she whispered, careful not to let Merlin hear. “We’ll get home, and when we do, we’ll find a way to make sure he never ends up this way.”

Arthur gave her hand a tight squeeze in reply, thankful for his wife’s reassuring words. They continued to follow Merlin hand in hand, curious to see where he was leading them.

Eventually, a tower sitting upon a hill in ruins came into view. Arthur felt a strange pull towards it and had to fight the desire to go to it. Merlin glanced back and did a double-take when he saw the king entranced by the structure. 

“Don’t,” a soft voice called him back, and Arthur blinked to clear his head. When he opened his eyes again he was surprised to see Merlin standing solemnly before him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“What?” Arthur slurred, his voice oddly hoarse as if he had been screaming. Merlin and the others looked at him in concern. 

“Don’t look at the tower. They might try to drag you back with them,” Merlin warned ominously, pulling his hand back and returning to the front of the group. 

Effectively pulled from his stupor by the odd remark, Arthur ogled the man. What did that even  _ mean?  _ The comment irked him so badly that he did not dare turn back to look at the tower, but the memory of it lurked in the back of his mind no matter how hard he tried not to think of it. 

The others took the comment as an order to themselves as well, although none of them had seemed so caught by the sight of the tower as Arthur had. Instead, they looked back and forth at each other and Merlin, their expressions caught somewhere between confused and frightened. The hairs on the back of Arthur’s neck stood on end, and he had the terrible feeling he was being watched. As if the tower had eyes...

They continued to walk, and soon they were far enough away from the structure that he no longer had the odd sensation of being followed. The others too looked less on edge without the temptation to glance at the tower. 

“We’re here!” Merlin called to them, pointing to his right. There on top of a small hill was some kind of manor, made out of a light-colored stone with vines growing up the walls. 

“Wow, Gwaine, you were almost right!” Elyan laughed, and then the others joined in, the gloomy mood broken. 

Merlin led them up to the front door, fumbling with an old key to unlock it before opening it wide and letting them pass. He maneuvered past them with the bags of food towards where the kitchen must have been, leaving them in the sitting room where they would inevitably explore.

“Is that...us?” Leon asked suddenly, pointing up above the fireplace. Arthur followed his direction, eyes widening. 

A grand painting was hung above the fireplace featuring Arthur, Guinevere, and his most trusted knights. Some of the details were a little off, perhaps misremembered in Merlin’s old age, but it was them. Arthur’s heart clenched when he spotted something akin to Lancelot’s visage. 

The rest of the room was filled with artifacts and trinkets from Merlin’s past. Arthur had thought Merlin’s flat had contained a lot of memories, but  _ this  _ was the real treasure trove. Part of him wanted to agonize over every single item, word, and painting, and the other part wanted to get as far away as possible as quickly as he could. 

“Oh, yes,” Merlin replied, making Arthur jump in surprise at his sudden entrance. “I took up art somewhere along the way, found out I was rather good. It...helps me remember.”

“How so?” Guinevere asked softly, sadness in her eyes. 

Merlin, who always had a smile for Gwen it seemed, turned to her. “Nowadays they have these things called cameras. They capture moments of time using light and film. But it wasn’t always that way. Before those came around, I had to find a way to always be able to look back on the ones I loved. I’m sure you managed to see a few of Anna and Lizzie the other day. I have many more of many others around this place,” he explained, and Guinevere nodded, looking back at the painting with a new appreciation. 

“I put a pizza in the oven. It should be ready soon, so I’ll show you around in the meanwhile,” Merlin told them, changing the subject. The man gave them a small tour of the place, only showing them where they could sleep and where the privies were, telling them they weren’t allowed to explore anywhere else, for their own well-being. 

Knowing Gwaine, he’d take that as a personal challenge. 

“Just a warning if you want to bathe- the plumbing’s old and the water heater isn’t great. Enough of that now, let’s go eat.”

The night went well enough. Merlin seemed to be in better spirits than he had all day. Arthur and the others got introduced to pizza, which the king knew would immediately be added to Camelot’s menu when they returned home. Merlin even allowed them to look through a few of his sketchbooks while he researched ways to send them home. 

“Oi, mate, is this supposed to be me?” Gwaine guffawed at the clearly misremembered rendition of the alcoholic. Arthur glanced up and looked to the chair where Merlin was sat, surprised to see he had fallen asleep. The man’s brow was furrowed and the corners of his lips were turned downward, worrying Arthur who had seen the effects that dreams had on the man. 

Until it was apparent that Merlin needed to be woken up, Arthur decided to leave him be. He deserved the rest after putting up with them all day anyway. 

Everything was peaceful for a few more minutes, and Arthur found himself thoroughly impressed by Merlin’s skill the more they looked at the drawings. Then, things changed. 

“Nnnnnooo,” Merlin mumbled, shifting on the chair. They looked up at him to see if he would do anything else or just drift back off into sleep. 

“D’nt go…” he continued, the book in his lap falling to the floor with a loud thump. The noise didn’t make Merlin so much as stir. 

“G’ve ‘im back to me!” Merlin ordered something in his dream, beginning to cry. 

Arthur decided this was enough and stood to wake him. “Merlin,” he muttered, giving his shoulder a shake. Something gold flashed beneath Merlin’s eyelids, and before he knew it Arthur was flying through the air, slamming painfully into the wall. 

“Arthur!” Many voices shouted at once, but he couldn’t make out who over the painful throb in his head. 

“G’ve ‘im back! Please!” Merlin shouted, kicking out and falling off the chair. Arthur registered the glow beneath his eyelids again just before objects began to fly around and crash into walls. A wind storm began, powerful enough to force the others against the wall. 

A pot shattered against the wall, sending shards flying. Arthur cried out as one sliced him right beneath his eye.

Merlin’s spells faltered when Arthur shouted in pain, and the warlock himself looked confused, but his eyes remained closed by sleep. “Arthur?” Merlin called out warily. 

“Merlin, you’ve got to stop it!” Arthur shouted, hoping his voice would bring the man back to his senses. 

“But the Sidhe...they...they have to  _ pay!”  _

“The Sidhe aren’t here, Merlin. You’re dreaming!”

“Dreaming?” Merlin echoed weakly, and gradually the spells slowed. Then, Merlin opened his eyes.

Arthur met Merlin’s eyes, watching as they widened and filled with guilt. “I...I hurt you?” He asked desperately. 

“Merlin, it’s alright, I’m fine-” Arthur began, but Merlin cut him off as he began to hyperventilate. “Merlin-!” Arthur tried to stand, nearly falling over as the room spun and his head ached dangerously. 

Before anyone could even do anything, Merlin was gone, leaving the front door wide open in his wake.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as always for reading! let me know what your thoughts are.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin reaches a breaking point and Arthur contemplates what it means to be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know...not a very long chapter. Sorry. I had my surgery a few days ago and the recovery has been rougher than I expected. My brain was too foggy to even contemplate writing, lol. Idk when another chapter might come out since I have a lot of work to catch up on for real life, but I'll try to get something out soon. Enjoy!
> 
> WARNING: attempts at suicide are alluded to in this chapter. if this is something that may trigger you, feel free to skip that part of the chapter. I don't think it will hurt your overall understanding of where the plot is going too much

Merlin ran from the house, gasping for breath. His face was wet with tears, and he couldn’t get the image out of his head. 

_ Arthur, hurt. Bleeding from his temple and beneath his eye, because of  _ him.  _ Merlin had  _ hurt  _ his king. What a failure he was, even after all this time. _

In his haste he tripped on a stray root, crashing to the ground. Merlin could feel rocks embedded in the palms of his hands and in his knees, felt the sting of rough scrapes, but paid it no mind. He climbed to his feet quickly and resumed running, desperate to get away from it all. 

Merlin just kept going, unsure of his destination but knowing he couldn’t go back. He was tired of their pity. He was tired of looking at them, knowing that they were just going to leave him again. He was tired of  _ living  _ for so damn long _ .  _

Something in Merlin told him this was wrong. That he should be helping his friends get home, not wallowing in misery at the fact that he had to help them. That he shouldn’t  _ resent  _ them for it. 

But he did. 

And it hurt. 

Merlin stopped running when he felt something cold and wet lapping at his ankles. It took a moment for the scenery to register, and when he did, he  _ screamed.  _

The lake of bloody  _ Avalon.  _

“Come and face me!” He roared across the water at the creatures within. Those  _ demons.  _

“You’ve made me wait for so long… and for… for what? This  _ joke?”  _ Merlin demanded, beginning to laugh almost hysterically. 

“You’ve tortured me for  _ years  _ and now you won’t even answer my summons!  _ What was the point of it all? For your amusement?!”  _ He cried, grabbing a stray rock and hurling it at the tower. It didn’t go too far though, and he watched, sick, as it landed in the water, causing it to ripple. 

“Oh, yes,” Merlin laughed, ripping at his hair, “let’s all watch the warlock cursed to live forever! Wonder which way he’ll try to off himself next!” His hands moved of their own accord, making fists to slam down on the water. 

“I’ll send this Arthur back, of course. I’m a good little  _ pet  _ aren’t I?” He mocked, fingernails digging so deep into his palms that he could feel it pierce his skin. “Maybe then you’ll finally let me  _ die.  _ A reward for… for good bloody behavior!”

The water rippled then, of its own accord this time. Merlin paused his rant, eyeing it oddly. Something glinted beneath the surface.

_ Excalibur?  _

At last, a solution presented itself. Merlin took a breath and dove beneath the water, kicking desperately to reach the bottom. His hands skimmed along the bottom of it, searching for it in the dark. 

His lungs burned and no light from the moon penetrated that far down, but Merlin did not care. He searched blindly before his hand found purchase on something solid. 

A  _ hand!  _

He pulled back his own hand as if burned. Despite himself, Merlin screamed and found himself surprised when he continued to be able to breathe.  _ What?  _

A light began to pulse and grow, allowing him to see whatever it was that had just terrified him moments ago. 

Freya, floating almost ethereally. Her hair floated in tendrils around her face, and her dress moved gently in the water.  _ “Hello, Merlin,”  _ Freya spoke, her voice somehow echoing around. 

“Freya?” Merlin gasped out, heaving in great lungfuls of air. His thoughts were crashing about in his mind, too fast for him to make sense of any of them except for one.  _ Was he dead? _

_ “It has been a long time, Merlin,”  _ Freya replied, taking his hands into her own. She caressed them gently and Merlin watched as the wounds faded away at her touch. The pain that nagged him dissipated a little. 

He had kept silent as her tender actions healed him, but Merlin could keep his thoughts to himself no longer. “Have I finally died? What’s happened?”

_ “No, Merlin,”  _ Freya began, and he visibly deflated a little. Freya frowned but continued nonetheless.  _ “I know of the plot that sent your friends out of their own time, and I know how to send them home.” _

“Really?” Merlin met her gaze, surprised. 

_ “Indeed,”  _ Freya nodded.  _ “It was Morgana, as you have all suspected. With the aid of the Sidhe, she banished your friends from the past and has taken your younger self captive. With all of you out of the way, she intends to take Camelot for herself once and for all,”  _ the lady explained, her brow troubled by the thought of it. 

“Even when she’s dead, Morgana still finds a way to cause me problems,” Merlin scoffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. Freya watched on, eyes filling with sadness. 

_ “Such temperaments do not suit you, darling,”  _ she hummed non-committedly, brushing a few strands of hair away from his face. Merlin narrowed his eyes, taken aback by the comment. 

_ “Time has not been kind to you, and for that I am sorry,”  _ Freya apologized softly.  _ “Have peace. Fate has not forgotten you,”  _ she reached up to kiss his temple. All of the pent up tension left his body and his mind calmed.  _ _

For a moment he could see himself back in Camelot, filled with vibrant youth and the passion to do what was right for his king and the world they were building together. Offering Freya a tired smile, he wondered if he could ever be that man again, or if Merlin had killed that version of himself in his desire to forget. 

_ “Your friends worry. We do not have much time, so I will explain quickly,”  _ Freya interrupted his thoughts, glancing uneasily at the surface of the water.  _ “The gateway between times will be opened again in one month’s time when the moon is brightest. Only then can you send your friends back. I will leave the spell in your memory,”  _ she explained before pressing her hand against his head. The spell hit him like a rush of cold water. 

Freya laughed, the sound of it like bells, when she caught sight of him shivering. A rough crash sounded above them, jerking Merlin’s attention to it. A figure in the water, swimming down towards him. 

“Freya-,” Merlin began, turning back to her, but ended abruptly when he saw that she had disappeared. He sighed, voicing his thanks one last time before kicking his feet up towards the surface where the others no doubt awaited him anxiously. 

* * *

_ Fifteen hundred years ago… _

Arthur surveyed the area around him after stepping out of the lake. The sight was distantly familiar, like a memory from his childhood. Despite that, Arthur knew he had only been there a day before, as he lay dying in Merlin’s arms. 

_ Merlin.  _

Arthur’s heart ached for the man. Freya’s vision had revealed all of the warlock’s sufferings to him. The king had felt Merlin’s every wound and sorrow as if it were his own in those moments. He worried that he had no place in such a changed man’s life. 

Would Merlin resent Arthur for making him wait all those years? There was no way to truly tell, what with Arthur having been thrown years into his personal past and even further away from his immortal friend. What he did know was that there was someone he could help here… it just so happened to also be Merlin. 

In his mind’s eye, Arthur could picture the clearing where his younger self and his friends had been snatched from time. He could even recall it in his own personal memory, although the day celebrating his dear Guinevere’s birthday had gone most notably without incident. 

According to the foreign memories he now possessed, Merlin had been the only one left behind by the spell. In his confusion, Morgana had managed to overcome him, taking him hostage and imprisoning him in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. 

Arthur cringed at the thought of the place. Despite his persistent optimism about the place in the past, Arthur knew it was not something to be trifled with. Often overrun with outlaws and vengeful sorcerers, it had eventually made his do-not-visit list. After losing Merlin in the rockfall for days a few years ago, the king hardly gave the valley a thought for fear of recalling those awful images. 

Despite knowing exactly where he needed to go, Arthur knew it would take quite the effort to get there. He would have to pass through the Darkling woods and Camelot’s citadel and cross the White Mountains to reach the valley. The journey would undoubtedly take days. With each passing moment, both Merlin and Camelot were put more at risk. 

The thought of that spurred Arthur forward. He took one last look back at the lake before taking the first step of his journey.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i felt bad for Merlin while writing this, but did that stop me? nope  
go ahead and leave me some feedback if you're feeling up to it. might motivate me to get another chapter out sooner ;)  
thanks again for reading!


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has words for Merlin. They're in for a rough night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's friday! yay!  
i hope you enjoy this chapter. We see a side to Arthur we don't normally see...

Merlin, despite having made the decision to return to the surface, felt himself being forcefully pulled out. He spluttered for a moment, and without Freya’s protection, felt his lungs fill with water. Arthur continued to swim upward with Merlin in tow, the ache for oxygen now ever-present. 

They broke the surface, and Merlin felt the intense pressure fade away. Together, they aimed towards the shore where he could see the others looking on anxiously. 

“Look! Arthur found him!” Leon called across the water, pointing in their direction. Some sort of cheer of relief sounded from the others, but neither Arthur nor Merlin made any effort to reply. 

Merlin practically threw himself on the earth when they left the water, coughing to expel the lake water from his lungs. Beside him, Arthur heaved in great amounts of air. Merlin realized guiltily that the man’s lips were blue and his head wound still bled heavily. 

They took a moment to gather themselves. Elyan and Percival had run back to the estate in search of towels to dry them off and warm them, seeing as both men were shivering. Gwen and Leon hovered over Arthur, checking on his lucidity and making sure he hadn’t injured himself any further. Gwaine fussed over Merlin in his own way. 

When Arthur no longer looked like he might lose his dinner, he breathed a great sigh and turned his sights on Merlin. “What were you thinking?!” The king demanded sharply. 

Merlin sat there for a moment, surprised by the sudden accusatory tone. How was he meant to reply to that? He reasoned that Arthur was upset about something he’d done, but Merlin had done many things in the last few days that were upsetting enough to send Arthur into a tailspin. Whatever it was he’d done, he did feel guilty for causing this much distress to the king. 

“Arthur…” Merlin tried to begin speaking, but no words came to him. Arthur’s eyes blazed. 

“How could you be so...so stupid, Merlin?!” Arthur spluttered, moving his wet hair out of his eyes in an agitated gesture. Beside him, Gwen balked at his tone and volume. Leon looked between Arthur and Merlin worriedly while Gwaine positioned himself in front of Merlin almost defensively. 

“What...what are you talking about, Arthur?” Merlin asked softly, his voice shaky despite his best efforts. Gwen met Merlin’s eyes for just a second, and Merlin could see the apology and compassion she conveyed through the gaze. 

“You know perfectly well, Merlin,” Arthur practically growled. Merlin flinched at the sound of it. Just for a moment, Merlin saw his gaze soften a little before Arthur’s eyes flickered and the expression was back. 

“You can’t just keep throwing your life away on us! On  _ me!”  _ The king shouted. Merlin tilted his head in confusion, not understanding him. 

“Don’t pretend with me,” Arthur scoffed, shrugging Gwen’s hand off of his shoulder. “I heard what you were shouting earlier. All those angry words you threw at...whatever lives here in this bloody lake you didn’t want me looking at earlier.”

Merlin felt his breath leave him at those words, and his shivers caused by the cold stilled. Those thoughts had not been ones he wanted Arthur to hear. It was too late, though. He couldn’t take them back.

“I know that you’ve lived a long time and that you’ve suffered a lot. I  _ know.  _ These past few days have made all of that perfectly clear. But what you’re doing now, Merlin, it’s not okay,” Arthur sighed again. Merlin noticed the shoulders that had been tensed now relaxed. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry,” his apology was short, but Merlin could see the regret written all over Arthur’s face. He knew it was sincere. “But you can’t resent me for something I haven’t even  _ done.  _ I see the way you look at me, at all of us! You’re angry that we’re here and you’re going to send us away again, but therein lies the problem. Your happiness shouldn’t hinge on me, but you’ve let it.”

There was truth to Arthur’s words. It was a truth that Merlin had often hidden from. In a way, it had always been easier to cling to Arthur’s memory, his love for the man, and curse those who had left him to his lonely fate. He hated himself for choosing that life, but that’s what made it easy. 

Living a life of hate required nothing of him. It was an emotion that followed him everywhere and consumed him readily. It took so much out of Merlin to overcome the desire to shut out life, to open himself to others and new experiences. Periods of his life where he had accomplished such a feat were few and far between, but looking back on them always brought him joy. A very special few had seen him in his misery and latched on, deciding to fight for him. He couldn’t hate them for it, even once they were gone and brought more sorrow upon him. 

Unaware of Merlin’s inner turmoil, Arthur continued. “You’ve got to find a way to move on with your life after we’re gone! You’ve got to find something to fight for again. You have to  _ keep  _ doing it. I can’t leave knowing you’re just going to waste away because of me,” Arthur’s voice broke a little at the end, and Merlin was shocked to find tears glistening in the king’s eyes. 

If it weren’t for the concussion Arthur now suffered, bringing with it a lack of inhibitions, perhaps Arthur wouldn’t have been able to express any of those things. Although he wished it hadn’t come at a cost of hurting Arthur, Merlin was a little glad that it had allowed Arthur to open up and give him a metaphorical slap ‘round the head. 

Perhaps now that he had heard such sentiments as an order from his king, Merlin would actually manage to put his life to some use. 

That was how Percival and Elyan found them when they returned with fresh towels. Merlin was gaping up at Arthur, mouth opening and closing like some kind of fish, while Arthur wiped furiously at his tears. 

“Sorry, we, uh...had a hard time navigating the place,” Elyan informed them awkwardly, and the two men offered a towel to each of their drenched companions. Merlin hastily dried off, knowing he probably should have used magic to rid himself of the water long ago but feeling too drained to actually act on it. 

“We should get you both into some dry clothes and then into bed. You’ll feel better and you can talk it out when the morning comes,” Gwen ordered, helping guide Arthur to the estate. The rant seemed to have taken whatever energy had been left in the man, and he fumbled over himself as he walked. 

Gwaine tried to offer Merlin a hand up, but he declined, too ashamed at the moment to want to accept help. Freya’s magic had rid him of his anger and fear, but it did nothing to assuage his guilt. 

The walk back to his old home was eerily silent and Merlin did his best to avoid the curious stares of the others. He didn’t want to answer any of their questions and he worried that if he dwelled too long on thoughts of them that his resentment would return. Merlin still had to figure out a way to live with them for a month. 

A whole  _ month.  _ Merlin had not expected for his friends to be in his charge for so long. He’d have to try and find a way to keep them busy while they were stuck with him. Originally he’d planned on spending the time researching a way to send them home, but there was no longer a need. He felt the words to the spell Freya had imparted on him resonate in his mind. Merlin knew exactly what to do and how to do it. 

Once inside, Merlin left the others to their own wing of the estate. He stumbled into the part of the estate that housed his personal rooms, and on occasion a few of those he’d come to love. 

Merlin had not brought others to Glastonbury very much because he didn’t like to overshadow his time with them by stewing on his king’s demise. The home, for the most part, was a place of reclusion for when he’d fallen on hard times. If anyone ever lived with him there it was because, despite his best efforts, someone from the town had wormed their way into his heart and life. 

There was evidence of them everywhere. A painting someone had insisted on hanging. A rug someone had bought for him to try and muffle the sound of creaking floorboards. Books someone had left on a table only to never have the chance to pick them up again. 

His own room looked as if he’d never left. The day Merlin had finally up and left for London had not been one he’d planned. It was a few years after the war had ended. He had woken up one morning, looked out the window towards the tower, and decided enough was enough. 

The bed was unmade. A stained mug sat lonely on the bedside table. Clothes laid forgotten on the floor. It was a familiar but haunting sight.

With just a thought and the flash of Merlin’s eyes, the sheets flew up, shook off their dust, and righted themselves on the bed. He didn’t know where his bag was and didn’t really care to find it, so he rifled through the wardrobe to see what pair of pajamas he could put together. The only clothing inside were all from the fifties, but they would do. Besides, all the charms on the estate prevented any of the damage brought on by the passing of time, so they were as good as new. 

Climbing into bed with all the memories of an old life strewn around him, Merlin couldn’t help but picture himself there as he had been seventy years ago. The time since then had passed in the blink of an eye, so for all that he felt it really might as well have been. One thing was certain, though. 

The nightmares he was sure to face, night after night, had not gotten any easier. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to say I don't really condone the way Arthur went about things, but there is truth to his words. He probably could've had this convo in a much nicer way, but Arthur isn't exactly known for his tact lol. Let me know what your thoughts are on the chapter! I always love hearing them and discussing. 
> 
> thank you for reading!


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin realizes just how much trouble he's in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA  
otherwise, enjoy

  
  


_ Fifteen hundred years ago… _

When Merlin first awoke, it was to disorienting darkness. Water dripped onto the floor methodically. Something scurried across his feet. In front of him, someone laughed before Merlin lost consciousness. 

It was a few hours before Merlin woke again. Blinking hard against the new harsh light, he tried to lift his head only for it to loll down to his chest again. That was...odd. He blinked again a few more times to try and clear the fog from his head. 

_ Oh.  _ Merlin was hanging by his wrists from the ceiling. As much as he wished it wasn’t a familiar feeling, it unfortunately was. The position of his arms pulled on his rib cage, and the constriction on his lungs made him feel lightheaded. 

Merlin could feel blood trickling down his face, the warmth of it making him uneasy. Casting a wary glance down at his feet, he recoiled in shock at the sight of a large puddle of blood. The sudden movement threatened to send him to sleep once more, and Merlin fought to keep his head from spinning. 

When the feeling passed, Merlin warily prodded his magic. Having finally grasped it, he tried to use it to discover his surroundings. His eyes burned gold, and then he felt just that.  _ Burning.  _

His own magic felt scorching to him. Every part of his being filled with stabbing pain and the gold in his eyes felt molten. Merlin squeezed his eyes shut tightly, a whimper escaping through his clenched teeth. 

“Nice of you to finally join me, Merlin,” a voice suddenly cooed and Merlin’s head snapped up. Once again he felt the dizziness hit him like a wave and he inhaled sharply, only to be stopped by a terrible coughing fit. 

“Morgana,” he rasped out, mustering up all of his strength to glare at her fiercely. 

“Spare me the talk, Merlin,” Morgana smiled wickedly. A magical ball of light illuminated her face, casting wicked-looking shadows. 

“Where are we?” Merlin asked instead. 

“You really think you’re in a position to be questioning me?” Morgana laughed and raised an eyebrow, but Merlin remained stoic. “It is no matter. We will not remain here long anyway. This is the Valley of the Fallen Kings. From what I remember you never quite liked this place. Do not fret, I’m sure you’ll like where we’re going next,” she answered, throwing her hair over her shoulder.

Merlin frowned at that. “Where are you taking me? What have you done to my…”

“Your magic?” Morgana grinned, her teeth gleaming in the light. “Oh Emrys, what a fool you are. So easily defeated. I think it’s time we send you back to sleep,” she continued, playing her voice to sound sympathetic before pressing a finger to Merlin’s head. Everything went black. 

When he awoke again, Merlin felt something rough being dragged against his skin. Sleep threatened to overwhelm him again and every few moments he jerked himself out of it. It took a few more attempts before he realized that something was not being dragged along his skin, rather that  _ he  _ was being dragged across something rough. 

To his surprise, it was sand he felt beneath his palms. Hot sand at that. Merlin yelped, trying to scramble to his feet once he understood how hot it truly was. Morgana looked behind her. “Good, you’re awake. I think the horse was tiring of dragging you, so you can walk the rest of the way. You’ve been asleep for almost a week.”

Merlin gaped at her before the rope bound to him began to tug him forward. It burned his wrists, and he noted with disappointment that the magic binding cuffs remained. Surprisingly, he did not suffer any hunger or thirst. Morgana must have kept him cared for, if for no other reason than to see him survive to whatever she had in store. 

“Whatever it is you have planned, it won’t work!” Merlin called after her, and Morgana laughed. 

“Hasn’t it?” was all the woman said, silencing him. 

Across the dunes of sand, a lone dark tower stood. The sight of it filled him with dread, though he could not quite understand why.

They traveled for quite a time towards the tower, Morgana riding while Merlin stumbled along behind. Under the rays of the sun and it’s reflection in the sands, he felt his skin burn and blister. Eventually, he came to look at Morgana’s flask longingly, feeling his mouth parched from the heat. When Morgana finally noticed, she emptied all of the water into the sand just to tease him. 

When they reached the tower, Merlin wasn’t sure if he felt relief or worry. Relief that he wouldn’t have to travel anymore or fear of what was next. He didn’t have long to dwell on it though, because Morgana began tugging him up a staircase to who-knew-where. 

“What is this place?” Merlin asked, his voice hoarse. 

“The Dark Tower. Even the mere mention of it brings fear to the minds of men. I’m sure you’ll come to love it soon,” Morgana merely replied, that ever-present smirk that haunted her final days in Camelot resurfacing. 

They reached a chamber and when Morgana opened the door, he felt himself being shoved in. With all of his energy already sapped and his magic still hurting him, there was no way he could fight back, so he glared at her instead. 

“See you soon!” Morgana sing-songed before slamming the door shut. Merlin heard the sound of a key slide into place and the lock click before he realized how truly dark it was… wherever  _ here  _ was. 

_ Drip. Drip. Drip.  _

Merlin shivered at the eerie sound and made to stand to find out where it was coming from. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he felt around for something until his hand caught purchase before immediately recoiling. 

Mandrake root. 

The real fear set in. 

* * *

Merlin sat anxiously in waiting, glancing around the deadly chamber. He knew that without his magic, he could hardly fight against the awful powers of the root, but was hoping that it at least caught him unawares. The tactic wouldn’t work for long, Merlin knew, but it gave him some temporary relief. 

The incessant dripping noise was beginning to grate on his nerves. Trying to ignore it, he focused on trying to figure out everything that had happened in the last week. 

A whole week he’d been asleep. There was no way of telling what had become of his friends after Morgana’s attack in the clearing, or what she’d done with them. All he knew was that the magic was stronger than anything the witch had used previously. Either she’d grown in power, or she had help. Merlin didn’t know which was more likely at this point. 

Without his magic, Merlin knew that whatever she had in store for them would not end well. He would’ve tried calling for Kilgharrah if he hadn’t already figured out it would be useless. In the recesses of his mind, Merlin could feel that the link with the dragon had been severed. 

He’d have to find some other way out then. 

Something clattered off to the side of the room, and Merlin swiveled his head in the direction of the noise. A figure, illuminated by something rather otherworldly, emerged. 

“Merlin,” Arthur hissed, waving him closer. For a moment, Merlin’s heart soared. Arthur was alive! 

_ No.  _

It wasn’t Arthur. For as long as Merlin had a grasp on his sanity, he had to remember that. Merlin closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath. 

Hot putrid breath spewed in his face. Merlin shouted in surprise, stumbling back when he opened his eyes. There was Arthur, grinning at him wickedly. Merlin bit back his fear and shooed the specter away. 

Right. This was just the beginning. 

Nothing bothered him for a few more minutes, other than the sound of droplets hitting the stone floor, but after the events mere moments ago Merlin hardly noticed. Just when his breathing began to even out, a hand clasped his shoulder tightly. 

Merlin ducked away from the touch quickly before turning to see who it was that had appeared to haunt him. 

Gaius stood there, glaring at him coldly. The worst part of it all was that the specter said nothing. It merely remained in silence, it’s eyes filled with hatred. 

When the specter finally left, Merlin felt a little relief that didn’t last for long. Many figures from both his past and present began to taunt him without ceasing, and when one left another immediately took its place. Merlin felt his resolve began to slip and his hands tremble when his mother appeared for the third time. 

“You’re never getting out of here,” Not-Hunith said with a creepy smile. “Maybe it’s punishment for all the sadness and loss your life has caused me,” she continued, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Don’t you think so?” 

“My mother would...my mother would never…” Merlin tried, but his mind which was tired from the constant bombardment and mental beatings refused to keep fighting. His throat burned and his stomach growled, so he tried to focus on those sensations instead. When he looked up again, the specter which looked and sounded so much like his mother had vanished. Something caught his attention elsewhere. No doubt another mandrake induced vision. 

The sound of a key sliding into place and a lock clicking. 

A door creaking open. 

_ Blessed light!  _

_ Morgana…  _

“Now, Merlin. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have lots in store for little Merlin of the past... any guesses? Let me know what your theories are in the comments! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, new one should be up soon. 
> 
> ALSO --  
I'm interested in having someone beta this, but I've never had one before so I'm not quite sure how that works. if you're a writer and you're interested, let me know!


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin falls victim to a terrible spell that can only lead to the destruction of Camelot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i am really excited to see this part of the story play out!!! i hope you guys are too :)

_ Fifteen hundred years ago… _

Arthur cursed when he finished scouting a cave buried in the depths of the Valley of the Fallen Kings. No one was there.

Besides the tracks that had led him to the place, he hadn’t seen any evidence of some other inhabitants in the valley. The tracks had to have been from Morgana’s. Freya had told him that when Arthur woke, Morgana had been keeping Merlin the valley. None of Freya’s knowledge had been incorrect so far.

That didn’t mean something else couldn’t have changed since then, however. 

Arthur decided to venture into the cave and see if there were any remaining clues that could lead him to Merlin. The metallic scent of blood hit him hard. He turned his head to see a large pool of it, gathering beneath ropes hanging from the ceiling. 

The king winced. The blood must have been Merlin’s. 

There was not much else in the cave besides the blood, so Arthur gave a resigned sigh and made his way out of the cave. Perhaps there was a set of tracks he’d missed outside that could lead him to the path Morgana had taken with his servant. If worse came to worst, Arthur could always return the lake of Avalon and beg Freya’s aid. 

As he was exiting the cave, something caught his eye that Arthur had not seen on the way in. Smaller, likely female, tracks led from the exit while it looked like something had been dragged behind her. With a relieved grin, Arthur decided to follow it. 

It led a little ways out, and Arthur had to kick a few leaves out of the way to trace it, but eventually, it ended at a set of hoofprints. What looked to be the tracks of two horses continued the path from there. 

Arthur jogged back to his horse and quickly mounted it, eager to follow the trail and find his friend. With the ease that came from years of practicing at tracking, he started to follow the trail. He  _ would  _ find Merlin, no matter the cost. 

-

Merlin felt put off by Morgana’s supposed kindness, to say the least. It wasn’t enough concern to bother fighting against it as he followed her out of the dark chamber. At that moment, the relief was overwhelming. He could almost feel his head begin to clear as they put more distance between him and the chamber full of mandrake roots. 

Morgana led Merlin to a dining hall where a spread of food was laid out. The smell of it was tempting, and his stomach rumbled with hunger. He’d almost forgotten he had been hungry in the first place, what with being too occupied with fear and dread. 

The mandrake truly were awful. Merlin could almost feel pity for Uther for having been plagued by them so much. Almost. 

“Come, Merlin,” Morgana smiled almost too nicely, pulling a chair out for him and gesturing at him to sit. “I’d imagine you are very hungry.”

Merlin’s stomach answered for him and Merlin felt his face burn. Morgana’s smile grew wider at the sight of the red flush on his cheeks. He ducked away from her gaze. 

He wished he had the strength to try and fight her, but the memory of his magic attacking him and the voices haunting him stood at the forefront of his mind. Merlin sat down in the chair without a fight. 

Morgana began to devour her own food before looking to him, feigning concern. “Aren’t you going to eat, Merlin?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. 

“What do you want with me?” Merlin asked instead, his voice gravelly. Morgana frowned. 

“I just want you to eat, that’s all. Perhaps you’d feel better if you did. I know it can be rather taxing to be held back from one’s own magic.”

“And what would you know about it?!” Merlin growled, angry that she’d dare presume what it felt to be deprived of magic. To feel like she couldn’t breathe without it. To know it was so close but just out of her reach. 

Morgana looked up at him, losing some of the kindness that resided in her visage up until now. “I know perfectly well,” she folded her hands and rested them on the table. “I too have suffered.”

Merlin quirked an eyebrow, unsure of what she meant by the statement. 

“I was kept  _ chained  _ at the bottom of a pit for two whole years. The cuffs that you now wear, I wore,” she explained briefly. Merlin recoiled at the thought of it. He’d had magic since before he’d even left his mother’s womb and it had only been a few days since he had lost it, but he already felt like death itself. Could he have survived two years of this awful feeling?

Morgana smiled at his reaction. “You didn’t know?” She cooed. 

Merlin shook his head no briefly. “If you know just how bad it is, why subject it on another magic user?” He gritted out, desperate to know  _ why.  _

“You should be grateful, Merlin,” Morgana replied, oddly calm. “You have rays of sunlight in your chamber. You are free to roam around it as you please. Even now, someone offers you a meal and companionship. I had none of these things, and I would have killed for them.”

Merlin felt utterly silenced. A sliver of pity even cut through him. No matter how hard he tried to deny it, he did feel a little bad. He wouldn’t wish that fate on anyone. Not even Morgana.

“Your food seems to have gone cold,” Morgana said suddenly, the cheery tone resurfacing, somehow sounding even brighter than before. “I think it’s about time you returned to your chamber.”

Merlin felt his heart seize. “No,” he gasped out, reaching for her. “Please, don’t make me go back there…”

“Come along now,” Morgana ordered, and Merlin did, even as panic clawed at him, his hunger forgotten. 

-

The room was even worse than before. Phantom footsteps haunted him at every turn. Merlin found himself losing his wits, and with each visitor more of his control slipped away. What was even real anymore? 

“Merlin!” Arthur called him. Merlin’s head flew up, his heart filled with hope. 

“Arthur!” Merlin returned, desperate. “Arthur, please, you’ve got to-” He stopped, gasping in a few breaths. 

“I think I’ve found a way out of here, come on,” Arthur gestured over his shoulder. Merlin scrambled to his feet and stumbled over to the king. His hunger tugged on his senses, and he found himself wishing once more he had taken Morgana up on her offer of a meal. 

Merlin followed his king for a few steps before Arthur disappeared around a column, not to be seen again. Then, Arthur’s laughter erupted into the cavern. Merlin’s hands flew to his ears, desperate to block the sound, but it permeated to the depths of his being. The sound of it thumped in his chest. 

“Please,” Merlin called out, noticing as tears began to trickle down his cheeks. “Please,” he called again, but the only reply was the feeling of being shoved to the ground. 

Rolling onto his back, Merlin learned who had come to his rescue. Gwaine stood above him, grinning. “Come on, Merls. I think I saw a tavern on my way here. What do you say we hit it up next time we pass by?” 

Merlin smiled a little. Gwaine offered him a hand and Merlin accepted it readily, feeling himself being pulled up to his feet. A moment passed silently between the two men.

A scream sounded.

Only moments later, Merlin realized it was  _ him  _ who screamed as he registered Gwaine in his face, digging his fingernails into the warlock’s cheeks. Merlin threw him off, glad to see that when he blinked his eyes the man was gone. 

Breathing too hard, Merlin pressed himself against a pillar. He dug his palms into his eyes, fighting both the tears and the visions off.  _ If only he had his magic…  _

Footsteps sounded against the damp stone, pulling Merlin out of his stupor. His gaze swiveled towards the door as it opened, hating himself when he felt relieved to see Morgana. 

“Merlin,” she started softly, reaching a hand towards him. “Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry,” Morgana coaxed, taking a few tentative steps towards him. Merlin tried his best to duck away but his waning strength failed him and he collapsed into Morgana.

“Come now,” Morgana cooed, smoothing his hair down. Just in that moment, Merlin was so glad to be cared for that he did not care if it was Morgana doing the caring. As long as those visions couldn’t get to him anymore. 

Merlin let himself be led to the dining hall from their botched meal earlier. He stumbled all the way down, feeling the lack of his magic very sorely. It left him weak and susceptible. 

“I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer, Merlin,” Morgana began after she offered him a plate, “but it was all for a purpose. You know now that I am the only one you can trust. Your only friend.” Her words were sweet like honey, and Merlin wanted so badly for them to be true.

“We’ve always been friends, Merlin,” she continued. “I’m only sorry that we forgot that for a time.”

“Yes,” Merlin choked out. “Always friends.”

Morgana smiled and Merlin felt peace. “Please, eat now. I only wish for you to care for yourself. I need you to be strong for what is to come,” she explained, gesturing again to the plate. Merlin began to tear into the meal with no reservation, glad to note that the hunger no longer gnawed at him. 

“Good,” she said. “Now, what would you do for me?”

Merlin did not hesitate. “Anything, my lady.”

Morgana’s smile grew hopeful. “Anything? Really?”

Merlin nodded. “Of course,” he replied, letting a contented smile morph his own features.

“Thank you,” she nodded. “I’m going to need your help to recover Camelot. It’s time for magic users to be free, don’t you think?”

After that, the conversation went very smoothly. Merlin pledged his support to his lady, and in return, she freed him of the cuffs. Merlin reveled in the feeling of magic coursing through his veins once again. Oddly enough, every time he thought of his commitment to Morgana the magic thrummed oddly beneath his skin, but he ignored it. 

All that mattered was their plan of subterfuge. Merlin would return to Camelot and feed them false information of their king and queen’s disappearance and play the victim. When the time came, he would join Morgana’s forces to help turn the tide of the battle and bring the kingdom under its true ruler once and for all. 

“Oh, Merlin, I shall miss you, but we will see each other soon enough. Do not forget what has happened here,” Morgana sighed as she pulled him into a hug outside of the tower. Merlin melted into the embrace, knowing the separation was for the best. 

“I will not fail you, Morgana,” he replied, and after shared farewells, Morgana sent him on his way. 

While still navigating the Impenetrable Forest, Merlin heard something. A sword slicing through vines a few feet off. A few seconds later, a man appeared. 

“Merlin?!” Arthur asked incredulously, laughing in surprise. Merlin froze and his eyes widened for a moment before he schooled his expression and turned to the false king with a smile, remembering what Morgana told him. 

  
Merlin would  _ not  _ let Morgana down. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that in the show Gwen held out much longer than that but keep in mind that not everything is shown in this chapter PLUS Merlin has lost a fundamental part of himself (magic) and that most of his willpower/strength is gone. Let me know your reactions in the comments! I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading!


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finally gets to the truth about what Merin's been through. Sure, he's not being told every last detail, but what he learns is already bad enough. It's hard to want to know the details.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for any historical accuracies lol im trying my best

Arthur Pendragon was many things, but a good conversationalist was not one of them. As the king lay in bed he dwelled on the harsh words he’d used against Merlin. Arthur regretted the way it had happened, but he was also a stubborn man. Just because he regretted it didn’t mean that his words weren’t true. 

Beside him, Guinevere slept peacefully. He envied her as his own head throbbed, preventing Arthur from slipping into the sweet peace of sleep as well. That, and his thoughts were just a little too loud. Arthur was still so torn about the last few hours. 

Next door it seemed that sleep evaded some of his knights as well. He wasn’t sure just who had ended up in the room to the right of theirs, but their muffled voices carried through the thin walls. Arthur yearned to join their discussion but knew standing would be a bad idea. No doubt he suffered from a concussion and needed rest. At least if he just lay there he had a chance at achieving that. 

Arthur committed to himself that he would try to make amends with Merlin in the morning, be it with an outright apology or something else. He also decided that it was time their little group had the whole truth. If Arthur could learn what had really happened back in Camelot then perhaps they could figure out how to prevent an incident like the one from tonight occurring again. 

Eventually, the thoughts tired him and Arthur allowed the hypnotic sound of his wife’s breathing to lull him to sleep. Tomorrow could only be a better day if he had a fresh mind to face it, he decided. 

When he did wake, the sun was well into its journey through the sky. By Arthur’s estimates, it had to almost midday. Momentarily, he was angry that someone had not woken him sooner, but the feeling dissipated quickly. The extra sleep had cleared some of the fogginess of his concussion and his head throbbed a little less. 

Arthur swung his legs off the side of the bed, only just now noticing how soft the sheets were compared to his bed in Camelot, and he was not eager to leave them. The floor was cold beneath his feet and he longed for the heated rushes of his home, but he soldiered on. 

Noise echoed up from below and Arthur followed to where it originated in the kitchen. There stood Merlin beside Guinevere, and the former seemed to be showing her how to operate some modern device. She gasped when the large surface seemed to click a few times as she turned a knob before flames erupted on the surface. 

Arthur jumped a little at the sight of it, the familiar cry of  _ ‘sorcery’  _ hanging on his lips. The others turned to glance at them and he felt his cheeks burn. When Merlin noticed Arthur, the king could see his entire demeanor change. 

Merlin’s happy facade morphed into that of guilt, and only when it did so did Arthur know the pleasantness had been a facade in the first place. Both of them paused as they observed the other, unsure of how to proceed. 

“Good morning, Arthur,” Guinevere came round the counter to kiss his cheek, the flaming device momentarily forgotten. “Merlin was showing me how to make the toast of France,” she informed him excitedly. 

“Oh?” Arthur replied, turning once more to Merlin who had to stifle a laugh. 

“French toast,” Merlin shrugged, fighting back a smile. “Just showing her the way around a stove and all that.”

Things were silent for a moment and then-

“Listen, about last night-”

“I wanted to talk to you about yesterday-”

They both spoke at the same time before shutting up in a similar manner. Merlin, ever the servant, showed deference to Arthur and gestured for him to speak first. Guinevere, seeing where this was about to go, made herself busy by readying the ‘french toast’. 

“My words were harsh last night, and I felt I should...apologize for them. I’m sorry,” Arthur nodded, unsure of what else to say or how to continue.

“‘S alright,” Merlin shrugged once more, trying for a smile. “It was my fault, really. Everything you said was true, and  _ I’m  _ sorry for acting that way.”

“Thanks,” Arthur replied, the acceptance clipped but genuine. “I just…” he continued and Merlin raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s time you told us what really happened since, well... _ whatever  _ it is that happened. 

Merlin gulped but nodded nonetheless. “I will. Later. For now, I have to make sure your wife doesn’t burn breakfast!” He added the last bit hurriedly before he rushed over to the stove to take over what was rapidly becoming an inedible situation. Arthur laughed, glad that for now things were sorted, and went to the living room where the knights were seated once again in those odd-looking nightclothes. 

“Morning, Sire,” Leon acknowledged him as he entered, sipping a murky black liquid from a strange goblet with a pitcher-like handle on the side. Arthur’s nose scrunched up when a whiff of the drink hit him, and he recoiled in disgust. 

_ “What  _ is  _ that?”  _ Arthur gestured towards the drink, watching as Leon looked down towards it in confusion. 

“What, this?” Leon asked and Arthur nodded. “I believe it’s called coffee, Sire. I rather like it,” the knight shrugged before taking another sip.

Merlin emerged from the passage that led to the kitchen, followed by Gwen, carrying a platter covered in strange-looking pieces of bread and laughing loudly. “I always thought Leon would be a ‘one black coffee’ kind of man,” he said to no one in particular and then began to laugh even harder. 

Everyone looked at him in question until Merlin managed to calm down and explain himself. “Sorry, sorry, just a modern joke. John Mulaney said it if I’m not mistaken. He’s a comedian, like a...bard, but no singing and their stories are much funnier.”

It didn’t clear things up much better, but it was enough to get the point across while Merlin set the silver tray down on the old table in the center of the room. “Dig in,” Merlin ordered them with a proud grin. When no one ‘dug in’, Merlin frowned. 

It took Merlin a few more moments before the problem clicked, and Arthur could see the exasperation in Merlin’s face as the knowledge set in. “It just means you can bloody well eat it now!” He cried, throwing his hands up into the air. 

Arthur tentatively reached forward, grabbed a piece of toast, and took a bite. The flavor was pleasant, he decided, but the ingredients surprised him. “Is that...cinnamon?” He inquired and Merlin nodded. “How’d you get your hands on that? Isn’t it a nobleman’s spice?”

Merlin shook his head. “Not anymore,” he replied, seating himself down and tearing into his own piece. After swallowing, he faced them with a rather less excited expression and gave a resigned sigh. “Speaking of things that have changed…”

“We should talk about what happens after you all return to Camelot. What happens to me, specifically.”

Everyone fell silent and turned to look at the former servant. Merlin seemed to dread the attention if his flaming cheeks were anything to go by, but he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. Arthur waited anxiously. 

“When things finally went down in Camelot, it ended  _ badly.  _ Not everyone made it out. I won’t say who or when, though. If there’s one thing that living has taught me it is that trying to change fate will only make it worse. And...there are some good years that lead up to it. I wouldn’t change those if given the chance,” Merlin started, wringing his hands. 

The others were deadly quiet, some of them looking a little pale at the sound of their fates. By the way they sat on the edge of their seats with their eyes on Merlin, Arthur could tell that they were very intrigued. 

“After that, I stayed in Camelot until everyone else eventually passed on. That’s when I had my first wife, actually,” Merlin paused and reflected upon the thought, frowning in concentration. “I...I can’t remember her name,” he continued, his voice distressed. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Guinevere frowned and placed her hand atop Merlin’s own. Merlin looked up at her quizzically before gasping. 

“That’s right!” He exclaimed, startling the rest of the group and breaking the melancholy silence. “She was royalty! A princess, if you can believe it, Arthur,” Merlin grinned up at him, the sadness forgotten. Arthur blanched. 

Gwaine guffawed. “Bloody hell! Merlin, a noble!”

Arthur continued to stare at him, eyes blown wide. “How’d you manage that?!” He choked out. 

Merlin shrugged. “I was actually elevated to your beloved aristocracy before then, you know,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow at the king. “No one could resist a court sorcerer’s charm!”

Guinevere interrupted what was surely about to be one of their characteristic spats. “A princess, Merlin? Was it Elena?” 

Merlin shook his head. “No, no, it was… Mithian! Yes!” Merlin smiled, proud of himself for remembering. 

“Mithian?!” Elyan gasped, clearly remembering when Arthur himself had been engaged to the woman. Merlin nodded and laughed at their bulging eyes and hanging jaws before moving on to the next event. 

“Eventually after all of you lot were gone, Camelot fell to the Saxons. I had left by then, the memories were… too painful, to say the least. By the time I got word, it was too late. After that, it wasn’t good for me. I built the first home I had on this land, stone by stone, by  _ hand.  _ I did it all myself. I pulled away from society. At the time there was truly no one here. I had to be near the lake. The lake… it’s where you’re buried, Arthur.”

At the mention of the lake, Arthur felt a familiar pull tug at him again. His eyes drifted toward the window where he could see the murky waters and the haunting tower. Something felt caught in his throat, and he felt the urge to go to it. 

“Sire,” Percival called, waving a hand in his face. Arthur jolted and blinked a few times, throwing off the cold feeling that threatened to swallow him. When he took in his surroundings, Arthur saw the others staring at him with worry. Merlin looked particularly gaunt. 

“I’m alright,” Arthur said with a rough voice, trying to assure them. They looked wary of him but accepted the clear dismissal without much protest. 

“So,” Merlin began again, “it was a few hundred years before things really changed again. It was a man called William the Conqueror who really got the ball rolling again. After that point society was becoming...more, so I came out of my somewhat self imposed exile. 

“Over time my magic became more and more limited. The magic of the earth began to die, and I could no longer intervene in external affairs. It was like my magic just stopped working during those moments. Part of me always wondered if I should have just stayed here. Just because society became more advanced doesn’t mean my life got any better. I made friends, had a few lovers, started to really live again, and then came the Plague. Everyone I cared about died right before my eyes. They  _ begged  _ me to save them but my magic was  _ useless  _ against it!

“That experience should have taught me something, but I was naive. I retreated back here for a few hundred years and tried to start over before it all blew up in my face  _ again.  _ So many of those I cared about were  _ burned _ by Mary and Elizabeth both, the bloody Tudor queens. I was so torn up over it that I got careless. 

“Witch trials started up again. It was like Uther’s reign all over again. After everything that had happened so recently, I stopped caring, and I didn’t age myself the way I should have. People suspected everyone in such a way that hadn’t been done since Camelot, and a… A man whom I cared for and I thought cared for me in return, his name was… James, I think…” Merlin became silent for a moment, pressing a fist to his mouth to try and stifle a cry. He took a deep breath. 

“James turned me in, and they  _ burned  _ me,” Merlin gasped out, trying to wipe tears away from his face desperately. Arthur felt something painful in his chest, and he pressed a supportive hand to Merlin’s back. 

“When I didn’t die, they shackled me in iron, cutting off my magic. I couldn’t escape. They imprisoned me and tried to find different ways to kill me, but I couldn’t  _ die  _ and…” Merlin choked back a sob, clearly lost in a memory he wished he could forget. 

“They kept me prisoner for so long that eventually the iron rusted and I escaped. I came back here and changed my appearance and locked myself away in this house for a  _ long  _ time,” Merlin continued, breathing out a shaky sigh. Arthur could see tears leaking from Guinevere’s eyes and Gwaine held off some of his own. The other men looked sick and Arthur felt distraught. 

“Eventually I had a son with someone in the town, but then we went to war with the colonies and they sent my son off to die. That’s how all my children died in the end. Off fighting someone else’s battles,” Merlin’s voice hardened and he scoffed before going on with the story.

“It was almost a hundred years before I met Anna and had a daughter. Anna was a nurse and she died from some contagion that I can’t even remember now. Then the whole world went to war and when I tried to fight, I got injured badly enough that they sent me home. My daughter and son in law went to serve in their own way, and they died too.

“Not too long after that, another war picked up. I saw that one through to the end, but so many others didn’t,” Merlin gave a tired sigh. “I retreated back here after that before I moved to London and started life over again. Nothing worth mentioning after that really,” Merlin shrugged, obviously still upset. 

“Merlin…” Arthur tried, his voice chock full of emotions. “I’m so, so… sorry,” he finished lamely, not having the words to express what he felt for the man. 

Merlin looked at him tiredly and smiling bitterly. “It’s just the way things are. I’m nothing but used to it,” he said, the words being that of a man who had lived too long. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but like screw james  
thoughts, anyone?? let me know in the comments!  
thanks for reading :)


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin journeys back to Camelot with Arthur and a devious plan buried in his heart. Unexpected figures throw a wrench in said plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this is so crap. my health has been spiraling and i have not had the mental capacity to create anything worthwhile. i just knew i had to get a chapter out. that said, i hope it's still enjoyable!

_ Fifteen hundred years ago… _

Merlin dared not take his eyes off the traitorous king. He wished to scrutinize his every move, every emotion, every  _ thought,  _ to report back to Morgana. His mission resonated deep within himself, and with every beat of his heart the thought of  _ Morgana, Morgana, Morgana,  _ came to his mind unbidden. 

When Arthur had first come across Merlin, he had enveloped him in a hug. The closeness to the man repulsed him, and the warm breath that hit his neck gave him chills. Merlin  _ despised  _ Arthur. The murderer of so many of his kind embraced him, even though if he knew the warlock’s secret, Merlin would be dead many times over. 

Arthur had killed so many magic users. Merlin would not give him the chance to kill any more. 

Arthur insisted on carrying on some conversation and Merlin had to work hard to hide a sneer. What was so important about the blasted  _ trees  _ that he couldn’t shut up about them?

“Everything feels so alive… Like the world has an energy to it that I’ve never noticed before. Is this how it feels to be you, Merlin?” Arthur asked, his mind elsewhere. Merlin’s head snapped towards him. Something about those words struck him. 

The feelings were ones ingrained in him since childhood. For as long as he could remember, he’d sensed something  _ other  _ about the world, a vibrancy to it that no one else could see. An endless energy that kindly gave him free use of it. That let him  _ be  _ it. Only now…

The energy was distant from him. When Merlin reached for his magic, he found it retreated away. It didn’t get far, for Merlin managed to reign it in, but it bucked against his control in a way it never had before. Panic crawled up his throat as he quickly tried a simple spell, just a trick to see ahead through the forest, but his sight was blurry. His magic was  _ fighting  _ him!

Merlin inhaled sharply. There was a hand on his shoulder suddenly, a cold presence that made hatred surge within him.  _ Arthur.  _

“Are you alright?” The king asked, voice dripping with concern. Merlin looked to him and plastered a hesitant smile on his face, giving him a nod. Arthur looked skeptical. “You seemed worried… are you sure?” He pressed. 

“I’m fine,” Merlin replied tightly. Arthur acquiesced. 

Without any more distractions, Merlin pondered what had just happened to him. His magic had been resistant, almost  _ fearful  _ of him. He wondered if perhaps the magic-binding chains Morgana had him in left any effects…

_ No.  _ Nothing Morgana did was to hurt him, he was sure of that. Besides, his queen wanted his magic at full strength for what was to come. It had to be something else. 

No matter the case, Merlin knew what he had to do. He would wrangle his magic back under control, even if he had to take it prisoner from the earth. 

However, one problem remained. What had Arthur meant by his earlier statement? How was the false king, of all people, able to sense the life of the earth? Nothing made sense, including how Arthur knew to be in the Impenetrable Forest or even made it through. Merlin would just have to return to Camelot and observe further. 

It was a few hours later when Arthur finally decided to stop and make camp for the night. As Merlin prepared a stew for them over the fire, Arthur sat on a log a few feet away, looking contemplative. 

“What happened to you, Merlin? What brought you all the way into the Impenetrable Forest?” Arthur asked suddenly, looking up from his twiddling fingers. Merlin blanched and scrambled for a suitable answer that didn’t implicate his queen.

“Bandits, sire,” Merlin shrugged. “They came for me in the clearing after you all disappeared. They got me as far as the forest, but when they kept getting lost I took my chances to slip away. Nothing I haven’t done before. I was...lucky you found me.” He tried, knowing it was plausible enough to work. 

Arthur, however, sat up straight in his seat, his hands stilling. The king didn’t say anything, but at that moment Merlin knew his excuse had been the wrong one. It didn’t make sense how Arthur knew, but somehow Merlin had implicated himself in those few sentences. 

Scrambling to salvage it, Merlin schooled his expression and turned the question on Arthur. Hopefully, it would force the king to not dwell on his blunder. “What about you, Sire? What happened to all of you after the clearing, and why were you in the forest?”

At the mention of the events in the clearing, Arthur looked confused. It took a few moments before his eyes lit with recognition, but it had been enough to tip Merlin off. He could almost see the thought process in Arthur’s head as he tried to respond. 

Merlin had to hide a smile. It seemed they were both playing a game of pretend. A game that, one way or another, would prove fatal. 

“When I...woke in the clearing, I was the only one around, so I followed the only tracks leading away from it. They led me to the forest, where I found you,” Arthur shrugged, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety. Merlin nodded, playing along. 

“I’m glad we ran into each other. I could’ve been lost in the forest for a  _ long  _ time,” Merlin laughed. The creases in Arthur’s brow smoothed and then Arthur began to laugh as well. 

“You really are an idiot. You’d be lost without me,” Arthur teased and Merlin felt bile rise in his throat, but he swallowed it down quickly. How he’d ever put up with insults from the man, he’d never understand, but if Merlin was to win this game he’d have to get over his first instinct.

Choosing to focus on something else, Merlin congratulated himself on easing Arthur’s worries. It would be of no use to him if Arthur remained suspicious.

The evening dragged on longer than Merlin would have liked, but eventually, the king drifted off to sleep and he was able to try and reach Morgana. Creeping away from the campsite, he went to find a stream they’d passed earlier. 

Merlin found it not soon after and recited the spell Morgana had taught him. The image in the water rippled for a few moments before Morgana herself appeared as if reflected in the water. For a moment his queen seemed startled but she quickly smiled when she recognized him. 

“Ah, Merlin! I must admit, I was a little surprised to have you contact me so soon after your departure. How fares your journey?” Morgana asked, and even just the sound of her voice soothed the tension in him. He already missed her dearly. 

“Something’s come up,” Merlin began, unsure of how to break the news or her reaction. Morgana raised an eyebrow. “I was leaving the forest when I ran into Arthur. Somehow he found me and insisted I return to Camelot with him.”

Merlin could see the rage morph Morgana’s face, and he felt sorry for her. He hated this just as much as she did, but she needed to now. Camelot’s throne would not be so easy to take. 

_ “Impossible!” _ Morgana roared. “The spell should have  _ worked! _ The Sidhe assured me. Their power is beyond all measure! What about the others, have they returned too?!”

Merlin shook his head. “It was just him, my lady. I do not understand it either. His magical signature is...different. Something’s not right about him,” he explained and Morgana nodded stiffly, her expression still darkened. 

“He does not...suspect you, then?” Morgana asked, her voice terse. 

“I thought he might have, I recovered the situation quickly enough. He still thinks me the fool,” Merlin sneered, feeling his stomach turn at the thought. One day. One day, Arthur would  _ know.  _

Morgana laughed. “Arthur never could see a betrayal coming,” she commented, and Merlin smiled. “Pendragon men are such weak-minded fools. They’ll never understand what they’ve done to our people, nor my  _ hatred  _ for them,” she growled. “I so look forward to the day his head rests on a pike.”

“So do I, my lady,” he agreed, “so do I…”

They ended the conversation shortly after that. Morgana thanked him for telling her and assured him once more that she was the only one he could trust. Merlin had to agree. It had only been a few hours with the king, but he longed for the company of Morgana. She cared for him and his kind in a way that Arthur would never be capable of. 

Merlin could not wait for the day that magic would be welcomed back into Camelot’s arms. For his people to live free and unafraid. To finally be accepted. 

When Merlin reentered the camp, he was so elated over his conversation with Morgana that he failed to notice Arthur’s eyes watching his every move, but that was neither here nor there. 

In the morning as Merlin readied their horses, Arthur approached him. He tried to not let himself tense up. 

“You sleep alright, Merlin?” Arthur asked, and the tone of it gave him pause. Deciding not to worry, he turned to Arthur with a smile. 

“I slept great! It was nice to sleep without being surrounded by bandits,” he joked and Arthur gave him a tense smile in return. 

“I can imagine,” Arthur mused, placing his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. The touch felt like a burn, but Merlin bit down his reaction.

_ I cannot wait to kill you,  _ Merlin thought. All of this suffering would be worth it for the look in Arthur’s eyes when he realized he had been betrayed again. The king was a fool, too blind to see the magic all around him. He was Uther’s son through and through.

After mounting their horses and rejoining with the path to Camelot, Arthur suddenly spoke up. “I think we should go inspect the clearing once more, see if there is any evidence of what happened to the others. What say you, Merlin?” He pressed, and Merlin nodded. 

“I’m just as eager to find them as you are, Sire. We should definitely go,” he returned, adding a touch of worry to his voice. It worked like a charm. Arthur nodded in affirmation before spurring his horse forward, glancing behind just once to see if Merlin was following.

It took the pair of them almost the whole day to return to the clearing. The blanket and picnic basket remained strewn across the grass while the remains of food that animals hadn’t already eaten were clearly rotting. Maggots covered the scene and Merlin cringed at the smell of it. 

“Any guesses to what happened here?” Arthur asked, turning to face him with genuine hope as if he knew Merlin would have the right answer. The expectant expression was offputting, especially from Arthur. It was as if the king knew something…

Wait.

Did Arthur know about his magic?

His mind began to race and he reexamined all of his interactions with the king. Perhaps this could just be a one-off statement? Maybe Arthur was only hoping he had seen something, what with Merlin being the only one to have been left behind by Morgana’s spell. Yes, that had to be it. If Arthur knew about his magic, his sword would already be buried in Merlin’s torso. There was no way he knew. 

“Merlin?” Arthur asked, frowning. Merlin flinched, having forgotten that he had an audience. He put the smile back in place before answering. 

“I’m fine, Arthur. Just trying to think back to what happened, but I don’t think I saw anything. I’m afraid that I’m clueless,” Merlin shrugged, unwilling to betray his lady. He would never reveal to Arthur what had really happened here. 

“Just this once, perhaps you’re right, Merlin,” Arthur replied with a laugh and Merlin bit his tongue at the veiled insult. He could put up with this until Morgana returned to him. He had to. All while he was thinking this, Arthur glanced at him suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, but Merlin was none the wiser. 

Just when Merlin was about to reply, the ground began to shake. The feeling was awfully familiar, Merlin thought, just before everything went blindingly white. Arthur cried out and grabbed onto his wrist, and just this once Merlin allowed the king to do so, too overwhelmed by confusion to break away from the grip. 

Just when Merlin felt like he could stand the shaking no longer, it stopped. Standing in the clearing was Arthur’s inner circle of knights and Guinevere, all dressed very oddly. He blanched. Had Morgana’s spell truly failed? Were all of them returned to their time?

A voice spoke, but it sounded echoey. Only after a moment’s thought did Merlin know it had not been one voice, but  _ two  _ voices that sounded exactly alike. 

“Merlin?” They both asked at the same time, sounding equally surprised. 

Looking out across the clearing, Merlin spotted Arthur amongst the gaggle of knights. But that was impossible, Arthur was standing right next to him-

There were  _ two  _ Arthurs. 

The oddness of the Arthur standing next to him finally made sense. His face was more gaunt, his hair shorter than usual, and he looked  _ older.  _ The Arthur across the clearing looked more familiar and ecstatic to see Merlin. Merlin cringed. 

The Arthur beside him did not react, merely looking across at something with tears filling his eyes. Filled with both anger and confusion, Merlin followed his gaze, only to freeze as well. 

Standing there, looking more dead than any reflection of the visage he had ever seen, stood himself. 

Another  _ Merlin. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! hopefully the next chapter will be a bit better.


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin prepares to send the others back in time. Only, something goes wrong...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is filler-ish. I’m having surgery tomorrow and I just needed to get both timelines caught up. Next chapter will get better. We’re in the final stages of the fic!

_ Present Day… _

There was a palpable change in the way everyone acted around Merlin after all that he had revealed. Part of him regretted ever bringing it up, but Arthur was not wrong. He needed to share with someone who cared and who had a right to know. He just wished they wouldn’t treat him like a piece of glass that could shatter if they looked at it wrong. 

Something about being back home at the Lake of Avalon had relatively mellowed Merlin’s turmoil out. This was where he’d always retreated for peace, and eventually he’d begun to associate it with calmness. It also helped that there was a living, breathing king on the grounds this time around. 

Merlin refused to waste the month he had left with his truest friends. He could fall apart when they all left, yes, but he at least wanted some good memories to look back on when they disappeared. So he was determined to be in better spirits. What you act like is what you become, after all. 

He was usually the first to wake up, so when everyone else slept he would creep into the kitchen and begin to prepare breakfast for the others. That was what he was currently doing. As he set out a mug for Leon (the only one to have taken a liking to coffee, other than himself), Merlin glanced out the window. 

The tower caught his eye, and he could not help how his good mood deflated a little. A cold feeling washed over him at the sight of it. Merlin tried to look away, but found he couldn’t. The tower had always captivated him, and not in a good way. Not for the first time, he imagined Arthur’s cold and dead body kept prisoner within its walls. 

Well, then. Merlin did say he was going to try to keep in better spirits while his friends were staying with him, but a little exception when they weren’t around didn’t hurt anybody, did it?

“Merlin?”

Merlin startled, turning to face the first person to have found him this morning.  _ Arthur.  _ He couldn’t help but wince as his imagination supplied a particularly skeletal picture of the king. Merlin shook his head quickly, ridding himself of the image and focusing on his very much alive friend. 

“Good morning, Arthur,” Merlin greeted, voice hoarse from lack of use. Arthur raised an eyebrow before moving to grab a plate and some fruit. 

“How are you sleeping, Merlin?” Arthur asked in a knowing voice, clearly worried about his absent look this morning. 

Merlin thought of the dream that had plagued him the night before. He remembered crying on the steps of Whitehall Palace as King Charles’ head rolled, thinking that the last vestiges of Arthur’s beloved monarchy were well and truly dead. He remembered discovering that the coup had taken place, and had gone straight to see what it was all about. He remembered seeing people dip their handkerchiefs in the king’s blood to take home as mementos, and all he could think of was Arhur’s bloodied hand reaching up to cradle his neck, staining the neckerchief forever before he died and left Merlin alone. He remembered returning home to isolation, regretting that he had done nothing and that Arthur did not have a throne to return to. 

It had all been fine in the end, as everything seemed to be, but the memories of those emotions were haunting. 

“I slept fine,” Merlin answered with a smile, choosing to put the dream out of his mind. Arthur did not need to be burdened by them. 

Merlin grabbed himself a plate of food and followed Arthur to the dining room, eager to leave the view of the tower behind. 

_ One week since the last full moon…  _

“So we’re all...myths?” Leon asked, quirking a brow. Merlin nodded. 

“More or less. People remember you. Whether the story is accurate or not, well, that’s something else entirely,” he explained, watching as they nodded. Merlin smiled to himself, thinking of all the inaccuracies that used to infuriate him back in the day. 

Everyone was sat around Merlin and his laptop, looking at the Wikipedia page of Arthurian legends. Without much else to do to entertain them, Merlin had resorted to this. 

“Wait, they misspelled my name!” Gwaine pointed to the screen, where an extra ‘a’ had been added to the spelling, and an ‘e’ removed. It could have easily been a typo, but Merlin knew better than that. 

“They call you Gawain instead of Gwaine. Blame the Pearl Poet. It irks me everytime,” Merlin told Gwaine, watching as his eyes widened. Beside him, Percival burst into laughter. 

“Gawain, you say?” Gwaine asked through clenched teeth. Everyone’s eyes danced with mirth, and Merlin knew he had just christened poor Gwaine with a new nickname. The others would never let him live this down. 

Merlin began to scroll past it. The others looked mildly intrigued, while Gwaine just looked happy to have the topic changed. 

Catching a glimpse of a name that caused him great anxiety, Merlin tried to scroll past it quickly, but Gwen put a hand out to stop him. Merlin’s heart skipped a beat. 

“Wait a moment, Merlin. What’s this about Arthur’s child?”

Everyone was in uproar, including Arthur, but Merlin couldn’t think straight. He tried to control his raging emotions for the sake of the others, however. 

“It says here that Arthur sired a child called  _ Mordred  _ with...Morgana! Merlin, is this true?!” Leon exclaimed in shock. The others turned to him with wide eyes. 

“N...no, it’s not. Things just...got lost in translation, that’s all. That’s not true at all,” Merlin mumbled distractedly, clenching his fists so hard they turned white. It did not stop them from shaking, however. No one seemed to notice. 

“So who is this Mordred? Why does his name sound so familiar?” Arthur asked, though Merlin wasn’t sure if the question was directed toward himself of the King. Frankly, he didn’t care. All he could focus on was  _ not  _ focusing on the druid boy. 

“Wait. It was the little druid boy we rescued, right? Me, you, and Morgana… all those years ago… Whatever became of him?”

Everyone else looked very confused, but Arthur was looking right into Merlin’s eyes. Merlin couldn’t take anymore. At the sight of those curious eyes, he became lost in the throes of a waking nightmare. 

_ Mordred, pushing him against the wall, threatening him. Later, Mordred fleeing Camelot and running right into Morgana’s waiting arms.  _

_ Mordred, impaling Arthur. Mordred, lying dead on the rocks by Arthur’s hand. A piece of Mordred’s sword imbedded in Arthur’s chest.  _

_ “How long does he have?” “At best, two days.” _

_ “You’ve lied to me all this time.” _

_ “I thought I knew you.” _

_ “I trusted you.” _

_ “You were going to kill me.” “I should’ve.” _

_ “Why did you never tell me?” “I wanted to, but…” _

_ “So you’re not an idiot. That was another lie.” _

_ “Merlin, whatever happens…” “Shh, don’t talk.” _

_ “Goodbye, Morgana.” “You’ve brought peace at last…” _

_ “We can’t. It’s too late, it’s too late…” _

_ “Just... just hold me. Please.” _

_ “I want to say... something I’ve never said to you before… Thank you.” _

Someone shook his shoulder roughly, calling his name. Before he could stop himself, Merlin began to cry out. 

“Arthur… No! Arthur, stay with me!”

“Merlin, it’s alright, I’m right here… I’m not going anywhere,” Arthur assured, grabbing his shoulders tightly. Merlin looked up into Arthur’s eyes, confused. 

“No, no, you’re dead… you’re dead, you’re dead, you’re  _ dead  _ and you’re not coming back. You never come back. Why do you never come back?” He asked, words slurring together as tears leaking from his eyes. 

Arthur looked affronted by the words. Good. He should realize how badly him never coming back had hurt Merlin. How it had  _ destroyed  _ him. 

“Oh, Merlin, I’m… I’m so sorry,” Arthur whispered, pulling Merlin against him. He cried into the dead king’s arms until he eventually exhausted himself and fell asleep. 

_ Two weeks since the last full moon…  _

Merlin stubbornly refused to explain himself after his meltdown in front of the others. He still received questioning looks anytime he entered a room, but those memories were his own. Arthur’s final hours were his and his alone, and he refused to share with anyone. Moreover, Merlin would rather have not dwelled on it, and he didn’t want the others to know about it either. 

They only had two more weeks until the next full moon, and Merlin could tell everyone was getting anxious to return. He didn’t want them to ever leave. It was selfish, he knew, bur wasn’t he allowed to be selfish just this once? It was not to be.

Merlin was going to have to let them go. 

_ Four weeks since the last full moon... _

When Merlin woke up, he could sense something had changed in the air. His magic buzzed with life in a way it hadn’t in many years. For once it felt… good. 

The day passed much more quickly than Merlin would have liked, but they’d had a whole month leading up to it. He should’ve been thankful for the time he’d been given, but instead he wanted more. If this was the return of the Once and Future King that had been prophesied, he would likely never see his friends again. 

After spending the day preparing, Merlin had gathered the visitors from the past on the shore of the lake, waiting for the moon to reach its peak. The tower glowed oddly in the moonlight, taunting him. He forced himself to look away. 

“I’m sorry you don’t have your old clothes to return in,” Merlin apologized, taking in their modern attire. They had all left their old clothes in his apartment in London, and none of them had realized until earlier that day. Their had been no time to go and retrieve them, and they had agreed to just travel in what they had. 

“Oh, don’t worry, Merlin!” Gwen smiled, holding the hem of her shirt between her fingers. “I’m glad we’re returning with them. I think they’re quite… comfortable. Besides, it’ll be a nice way to remember you and our time here.”

Merlin winced. He hadn’t told them… 

“The moon is almost in position. We should say our goodbyes now,” Elyan spoke up, casting a wary glance up at the night sky. Merlin also looked, surprised to see the time had gone so fast. 

One by one, the knights bid him farewell. Merlin knew that he would be sore by the next day from the force of their hands clapping down on his shoulder, but he didn’t mind. The gesture was familiar and comforting, and he’d miss their brashness. 

Gwen was next, and she was all hugs and tears. She held on to him tightly, and Merlin returned the gesture, not eager to let his friend go. When Gwen finally pulled away, she offered him a tender smile. “I’ll miss you. Don’t forget that your friends care, always.”

And then came Arthur. Merlin squared his shoulders, determined not to cry. Arthur offered him his arm, and Merlin grasped it tightly. The king nodded at him. “Take care, Merlin. Be happy. You deserve it,” he told him, and Merlin told him that he would try.

And he would. 

When they all gathered together, Merlin knew it was time. He cleared his throat uncomfortably before he began. 

“I just want you all to know how much this meant to me. I’m glad I got to have you back, even if it was just for a month. I hope you can get everything sorted with Morgana when you get back, but… I can’t let you remember anything from your time here, or I risk ruining the timeline. I’m sorry.”

Immediately there was an uproar, but Merlin forced himself not to pay attention to it. He began to recite the spell Freya had given him, feeling the magic rise up within his being. It answered him readily, and stronger than it had since his time in Camelot. 

The ground began to rumble, and a bright light was growing around them. Just when Merlin was about to add the spell to wipe his friends’ minds, the sound of tinkling bells startled him. Where was that coming from?

Looking up, he spotted Freya in the water. Merlin gasped, and before he could do something, she winked and everything went painfully white. 

The next time Merlin opened his eyes, he saw Arthur. 

_ His  _ Arthur. 

Oh, hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur finally reunite. All is well, until it's suddenly not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long to publish this. hope you enjoy!

  
  


For a moment, time stood still. Nothing else existed except the two of them. 

_ Merlin and Arthur.  _

Reunited at last. Could it be? 

Arthur broke the reverie, taking a fumbling step towards him, as if unsure. Merlin reached forward with a trembling hand, and at that moment the King lost all hesitation. He ran forward immediately and Merlin leaped to meet him. 

They collided with such force that it sent them crashing to their knees, but neither of them cared. Merlin threw his arms around Arthur and held on tightly, burying his face in the man’s collar as hot tears ran down his face. 

“You’re real… you’re real… you’re real…” Merlin found himself muttering over and over as if he couldn’t quite believe it himself. Arthur choked out something that sounded like a mix of laughter and tears. 

“I’m real,” Arthur whispered in reply, squeezing him tightly. “I’m sorry it took me so long…”

Merlin snorted. “You never were one to wake up on time, were you, prat?” 

As Arthur helped him to his feet, he jokingly replied, “a king is always on time. Everyone else is merely early!”

The joking banter filled him with such warmth. The Arthur he’d spent so much time with this past month had not been  _ his  _ king, had not lived alongside him yet the way his Arthur had. Being here now felt like being reunited with his other half.  _ Two sides of the same coin _ were words that had never felt truer. He was complete. 

“Where have you been all this time? What have you been doing?” Merlin asked, desperate to know. 

“I’ve been… asleep. It feels to me as if no time has passed, but I’ve since learned otherwise. I’ve seen everything you’ve done, though. The Lady of the Lake showed me,” Arthur replied, and Merlin’s eyes widened. 

“You’ve met Freya?”

“Ah, yes. She told me you called her that,” Arthur smirked knowingly. Merlin rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not like you think. We had something, once, but… it was a long time ago. I’ve had other things keeping me busy.”

Arthur cringed a little. “I… I know. I’m sorry,” he said, before pausing for a moment. Arthur had always hated talking about feelings and pain, so Merlin really should have seen his next comment coming, but it left him flabbergasted. 

“But, really, Merlin? That nineties fringe style you had… absolutely dreadful,” Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms. Merlin choked on air laughing, surprised by his knowledge and the fact that he had even brought it up. How did he even have the cultural references to understand it?

Upon seeing the question in Merlin’s eyes, Arthur smiled. “Freya showed me  _ everything.”  _

“This is nice and all, but uh… what the hell?”

Arthur and Merlin looked to the source of the voice, surprised to remember they were not alone at the moment. The one who had spoken was Merlin’s younger self, looking rather angry and confused. The expression was off-putting, especially coming from him.

“I second that,” the younger Arthur spoke up. Merlin noticed that the younger king glanced at the young warlock, surprised by the coldness. As a matter of fact, his own Arthur’s eyes had narrowed when Merlin spoke. As if suspicious of something. 

“Why are there two of each of you? Merlin, I thought you were staying behind?” Gwen asked, being the first one to voice the group’s thoughts. Merlin thought for a moment before replying. 

“I was supposed to. Freya sent me with you, for good reason it seems. Without it, I wouldn’t have found Arthur. You see, this is the Arthur from  _ my  _ timeline. Apparently, he’s been sent back here,” Merlin explained. Everyone nodded, accepting. It seemed very straight forward. 

And yet…

The way the younger warlock’s brow furrowed just so made him feel on edge. Something was wrong. 

Gwaine sauntered over to the younger Merlin, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, Merls! It’s been a month since I hit up a tavern. When we get this sorted I think we ought to have an evening out on the town. What say you?”

The younger man smiled awkwardly. “Sure, Gwaine. You say it’s been a month since you disappeared? That’s… interesting. It’s been a month here as well.”

Merlin cringed at the reminder of the waiting period on the spell. It would be a whole lunar cycle before he could use it again to send himself home. Although, looking at Arthur who now stood beside him… Maybe waiting wouldn’t be so bad. 

A thought occurred to him suddenly. Arthur could come home with him! He would no longer be alone. He was practically vibrating with excitement just thinking about it. 

For now, Merlin decided, he would help the others return to Camelot. Perhaps he could go there himself and… no. He couldn’t. It would be potentially catastrophic and he might mess up the timeline. He and Arthur would have to spend the month elsewhere and let their friends from the past rejoin their lives. 

Merlin explained this thought process to the others, and they sadly agreed it was for the best. They agreed to meet just before the month ended for a final farewell. He wanted the opportunity to be around Gwen and the knights one last time. That was when Merlin would have to erase their memories. They couldn’t be allowed to remember, after all. 

The only reason he didn’t remove the memories of their jaunt to the future then and there was entirely selfish, but he decided he’d allow it just this once. Merlin wanted them to remember him when they finally met to say goodbye. Afterward, he’d do it. 

He told none of them this, however, he did call the younger Arthur over.

“Is something wrong?” Arthur asked, raising an eyebrow. Merlin shook his head. 

“No, at least I don’t think so. I just wanted to warn you of a few things. For one, no one can speak of what they’ve seen in the future. Not a  _ word.  _ You must promise me,” he said seriously. 

Arthur’s eyes widened. “I promise,” he said finally. “And the other thing?”

“Just… keep an eye on my younger self. Something seems off with him. It may just be that he’s in shock from it all, but…”

“I understand,” Arthur said softly, turning a concerned gaze on the young man who was conversing cheerfully with the others. At that moment, it seemed like nothing was wrong, but Merlin knew he had always been a good actor. He hoped that it was the former. 

While their friends from the past spoke amongst one another, Merlin and his Arthur quietly slipped away from the scene. They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, reveling in the other’s presence. Merlin could hardly believe it. He’d waited so long, suffered so much, and now… 

Looking up at Arthur, Merlin realized he had to ask. He had to know.

“Why are you really here? Why  _ now  _ of all the times to send you back?” Merlin asked, waiting for a reply. Over the many centuries, he had pondered just when Arthur would be kicked out of Avalon, and what time of need could be so desperate enough as to require some long-dead medieval king to fix all of its problems. 

“Freya explained it all to me, but a lot of it doesn’t make sense. She said we were somehow outside of time, and because of that, it exists  _ all  _ the time. That way, the Sidhe could always watch and prevent my returning. In one moment in time, however, they focused on  _ changing  _ the timeline. Morgana was never supposed to receive this power, but they gave it to her. Freya slipped me in when no one was looking,” Arthur shrugged. 

Merlin felt rage well up within him. Of  _ course,  _ it had been the bloody Sidhe! All those years of waiting by the lake, the tower’s watchful gaze over him, making him sick, came rushing back to him. The Sidhe had been cruel. Merlin should have been reunited with Arthur  _ long  _ ago, but he’d been denied. How dare they!

He clenched his fists tightly to keep from self-imploding with anger. Arthur looked at him worriedly. Merlin released a breath, trying to let go of his anger. “I’m fine,” he said, without being prompted, but he knew that Arthur was wondering.

“I’m not quite sure you are, but don’t worry. I’m going to be here to help you,” Arthur replied firmly, looking straight ahead.

And then another thought hit him. 

“Are you… Are you allowed to stay?” Merlin asked suddenly because the idea of it was overwhelming. What if Arthur wasn’t allowed to stay with him? Rather, that he had to go back to Avalon, having served his duty? He desperately hoped that it wasn’t true. That he wouldn’t be alone again. 

“Hmm,” Arthur hummed and then chuckled a little. “I think so, yes.”

A relieved laugh escaped him. “Oh, you complete and utter  _ prat! _ I missed you,” Merlin said, burying his face in his hands. Arthur slung an arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer. 

“I know I haven’t had to wait nearly as long as you, but for what it’s worth… this past month, I missed you too,” the king admitted, and Merlin felt a comforting warmth in his chest. This easiness in their relationship, unlike anything they’d ever had before, was just so  _ lifegiving.  _ Being with Arthur rejuvenated him, and it felt like the years were rolling off his shoulder. He managed to stand a little taller without the crippling weight. 

“What do you say we hit up a tavern, my lord? Just like old times. It’s been a while since I’ve had Camelot ale,” Merlin offered, smiling. Arthur grinned in return, and it was like the sun shined down just for them. 

* * *

It ended up being a few days before they got to the tavern. Merlin had wanted to traverse the countryside, recall all of the old ways of life he’d missed. Arthur had acquiesced. 

After charming both himself and Arthur with different appearances, they went to the first tavern they could find. Using the horses that Arthur had scavenged up while on his own, it had taken them a few hours before reaching the nearest tavern. Merlin was relieved to be sitting down, having gotten some saddle-soreness from lack of being used to riding. 

What could he say? Merlin rather enjoyed the ease of vehicular transportation. He hadn’t really looked back. 

A fire roared in its brazier a few feet away from them, and Merlin reveled in the feeling of being back in his old stomping grounds. The place reeked of old ale and drunkards shouted a cacophony of slurred words. Torches on the walls and hanging from a rather simple chandelier lit the room rather dimly, but despite the limited visibility and smell, Merlin could not keep a smile from his face. 

“You seem in rather good spirits, Merlin,” Arthur snorted. “This place feel like a second home to you? You always did spend too much time in the tavern!”

Merlin groaned. “I was  _ never  _ in the tavern!”

“The perpetual state of my chambers and lack of polished armor would beg to differ,” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

“That’s because I never had time to do chores while I was off finding a way to stop the next man trying to off you!” Merlin threw back, knowing it was all in jest.

Arthur lost a little of the humor in his eyes at the statement. “I… I know,” he spoke stiffly, looking away and taking a sip from his flagon of ale. 

Merlin’s heart plummeted. “Oh, Arthur, I’m sorry-”

“No! Don’t apologize!” Arthur spoke quickly and sharply before his eyes widened. Quieter, he spoke again. “It’s not you who should apologize. It’s me. I’m sorry I was never there for you when I should’ve been.”

“It’s not your fault, Arthur,” Merlin smiled sadly. “If anything, I could’ve told you sooner. There are things we both could have done.”

Arthur still looked as if he felt guilty, but the harshness of the expression had softened. They sat in silence for a while, both sipping at their ale and listening to the tavern chatter. A conversation at the table beside them caught his attention, however.

“Ah, yes, King Uther’s bastard!” A drunken man jeered. Both Arthur and Merlin swiveled toward him, surprised. “The lovely lady Morgana,” the man smiled, but not in a kind way. “I saw her, I did! Saw her little army too,” he laughed. 

“Excuse me, sir?” Arthur asked, and the man turned his drunken stare on the king. “You say you saw Morgana?” 

The man nodded. “With my own eyes! The lady was amassing an army, I’m sure of it. I think she must be headed for Camelot, of course. I’d heard the king had gone missing, along with his queen and advisors. No one’s heard from them for weeks!”

“Ah,” Arthur replied stiffly, before throwing a coin down on the table. “Enjoy a drink on me.”

The man replied with a very drunk laugh. “Thank ye, sir!”

Arthur quickly pulled Merlin up and out of the tavern after paying for their own drinks. Outside, the sun had set and a bitter chill was upon them. Merlin could see the fear in Arthur’s eyes and felt it in himself. This couldn’t be good. 

“I can’t believe I’d forgotten. I’ve been so blind!” Arthur growled, running a rough hand through his hair. 

“Arthur? What’s this about?”

“When I first came back, Freya told me something. I was so caught up with spending time with you that it slipped my mind. She told me that after my younger self was sent to you, Morgana captured your younger self.”

Merlin gaped, shocked by the information. Before he could reply, Arthur continued. 

“When I met up with him, he was in the Impenetrable Forests. He claimed that he was never with Morgana. That first night, I saw him slip away for a few minutes when he thought I was asleep. He’d been acting… strange. Do you think…” 

“Do you think this could be what she did to Guinevere? Did she bewitch his mind, his loyalty?”

It all made too much sense. For his younger self to have been so close to the Dark Tower, claim to have had nothing to do with Morgana, and have acted suspiciously? The signs were all there. It was too similar to when Gwen had been under the Teine Diaga to be something else. 

Merlin nodded slowly, and the two looked at each other in horror. 

  
This was  _ not  _ going to go well. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanted to say a heartfelt thank you to all of my readers right now. writing is such an outlet for me, and it's so special that you all enjoy it and seek it out even when it's just a jumble of words i put on a document to help myself relax :) 
> 
> i've really struggled with both mental and physical health lately, so this outlet is especially important to me right now. it's also the reason my publishing schedule is absolutely horrific right now. Please be patient with me! the last four or so chapters will be out as soon as i'm able to get them written!


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and the others settle into life in Camelot after being away for so long. After catching sight of a strange figure fleeing the citadel, however, Arthur discovers a terrible secret. A secret that just might cost him his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait on this chapter!! I had exams all week and then work all weekend, so that wasn't too fun. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Things are really starting to pick up the pace.

Arthur Pendragon dreaded the idea of returning to his responsibilities as king of Camelot. He’d had a whole month away from them, spent with his closest friends and dear wife. He had learned what it meant to lead a modern life and was reluctant to say that he quite preferred it to his own. 

Everything was so much more convenient in the future. Food was always at hand, warm baths were just a twist of a nozzle away, and heating was always controlled by something called ‘air-conditioning’ rather than the whims of the weather. It had been  _ nice. _

One thing he was sure he wouldn’t miss was seeing Merlin suffer. Arthur didn’t want to be misunderstood, though. He wanted to be there for his friend no matter what and would take on his suffering in an instant if he could, but it was hard to see someone he cared about so deeply be so fundamentally unhappy. 

Maybe this sudden turn of events would be good for Merlin. Arthur had not expected to see some ‘future’ version of himself stuck in this land, but nevertheless, it was a good turn of events. Finally, someone could be there for Merlin in the way he deserved, even if it wasn’t him… 

Well, it  _ was  _ Arthur, but not  _ Arthur  _ Arthur. For goodness’ sake, this was getting too convoluted. Arthur much preferred the way things were before he knew that travel through time existed and had a taste of the world of the future. Things had been so much simpler then. 

Since they’d returned from the land of the future, though, life had not been easy. Camelot had been in an absolute frenzy upon their return, searching high and low for him. Arthur, having expected to return to the exact moment they’d left, had not prepared for that eventuality. He and Guinevere had needed to scramble for a sufficient explanation as to their month-long disappearance in order to appease the anxious lords. 

In the end, they’d just told everyone that they’d been called away urgently to deal with a peasant uprising in one of the outlying villages and that they’d been delayed by terrible weather afterward. It seemed to work well enough, but Arthur still caught some councilmen eyeing him oddly during their regular meetings. 

Everyone was having a difficult time readjusting to life in Camelot. He regretted having gotten off of his schedule and not taking the time to keep training while they’d stayed at Merlin’s estate. Arthur struggled to pull himself out of bed even more so than usual in the mornings. He’d noticed the knights lagging behind in training. 

One thing that struck him as odd was the Merlin of their time’s behavior. The manservant had been acting colder than usual, and more subservient. Arthur had made sure to watch him even more closely after being warned to watch out for suspicious behavior by their future selves. 

He had certainly managed to catch Merlin in the act of weird behavior multiple times since they’d returned. Sometimes he’d look over his shoulder and catch a glimpse of a glare furrowing Merlin’s brow and hatred in his eyes. Other times, he would see Merlin eyeing his sword strongly as if he felt pulled to wield it. Even more worrying, he avoided participating in their usual banter. Something was definitely off with the man. 

The last straw was when Arthur had been sitting at his desk and gazing out the window after the sun went down, needed a break from the work that had piled up since he disappeared. As he watched the courtyard, trying to relax, he caught sight of a suspicious-looking figure. 

A man was moving around the courtyard in a dark cloak, maneuvering around barrels and walls to avoid being seen by the night patrol. He looked over his shoulder anxiously, and then Arthur caught sight of his face.  _ Merlin.  _

Now knowing that Merlin had magic, had  _ always _ had magic, Arthur wondered if there was some sort of magical threat that Merlin was trying to deal with under the radar. That was most likely it. He supposed he’d have to finally have the conversation with his friend that he  _ knew.  _ He’d been putting it off for too long and had even sworn the others to secrecy until he had the chance to do so. 

Arthur wanted Merlin to know that he could trust him and come to him with these sorts of things. That he was accepted for who and what he was. Arthur never wanted his Merlin to have to experience the rejection he showed to the Merlin of the future, which he regretted deeply. This time he would do better, he was sure of it. He  _ had _ to. 

Arthur made a split-second decision and rose from his chair, determined to follow Merlin and see what he was up to. On his way out, he grabbed the blue cloak that Merlin had leant him all those years ago and slung it over his shoulders. Once the cloak was secured, he fled the room and let the door fall shut behind him. 

He had to move quickly if he was to catch up with Merlin. It seemed that his manservant was quite equipped with skills when it came to avoiding being caught. It must have come from hiding his magic for so many years. 

Merlin moved through the woods stealthily, Arthur always a few steps behind. He couldn’t help but wonder where he was being led, and what he would find at the end. It would certainly be enlightening to discover all that Merlin did for him. 

Finally, Merlin came to a rest in the middle of the trees. Arthur came to a quick halt, ducking behind a set of trees and bushes to observe what was about to transpire. He would reveal himself when the moment arose, but for now, he just needed to watch. 

A new figure emerged from the trees, coming from the opposite direction. Their face was obscured, but they pulled Merlin into an embrace that reminded him of two long lost friends reuniting. 

“Are you well?” The figure asked, and Arthur bristled at the sound of the voice he had grown up with.  _ Morgana.  _

His fingers itched to go to his sword, but Arthur forced himself to be still. He had to see what this meeting was about, and why on earth Merlin was conspiring with the witch. Merlin from the future had never alluded to having worked with Morgana, and most of his actions had attested to the fact, so why was this happening now? What had changed? 

“I’m fine,” Merlin replied quickly. “And you?”

“I’m well, Merlin,” Morgana replied kindly, finally stepping out where the light of the moon could illuminate her face. Almost immediately, he spotted the gentle smile she wore. Arthur’s heart clenched. Why were these two acting like friends? Had Merlin really betrayed him?

“How are things in Camelot?” Morgana continued. Merlin frowned.

“Something strange has happened. It’s what’s kept me from contacting you for so long,” Merlin began. “Arthur, Gwen, and the knights are all back. They’ve brought the future versions of both myself and Arthur with them.”

_ “What?” _ Morgana hissed. “That should not be possible! And yet, I should’ve seen it. They always find a way to ruin my plans. These… future selves you speak of, where are they?”

“Gone. They’re deep into the countryside as far as I’m aware. I don’t believe they pose a threat. They’re just biding their time until they can cast the spell to return to their time,” Merlin answered.

“I see,” Morgana replied evenly. “Well, no matter. Not even they could stop us now, not with what’s coming. You have prepared everything on your end? No one suspects anything is amiss?”

“Of course, my lady. Everyone is too caught up in trying to catch up on what they missed to pay attention. They have no idea,” Merlin smiled, as if their idiocy was amusing. How had Arthur missed this? He’d been  _ warned! _

“Good,” Morgana grinned in reply. “I will meet you here tomorrow evening, and when the sun sets we shall make our move.”

“Until then, my lady,” Merlin finished the conversation, watching as Morgana disappeared into the night. He turned to face the direction of Camelot, clearly intending to return, but Arthur could reign in his fury no longer. He drew his sword silently, approaching Merlin from behind, and placing the sword to his throat. 

Merlin stiffened. “So,” he spoke carefully, “you figured me out.”

“Indeed,” Arthur replied sharply. “How could you?”

_ “No,  _ how could  _ you?” _ Merlin bit out, and Arthur’s frown deepened. “You and your father have hunted and persecuted my people. You slaughter them for something they were  _ born _ with. My first friend, my first love, the only man I could trust, my  _ father, _ they’re all dead because of you! You sit all high and mighty on your throne, neither acknowledging or caring that it was built on the death of  _ thousands! _ I thought, maybe one day, you’d be better, but I know now that you won’t be. Morgana showed me that. How can you live with yourself, Arthur?”

Whatever Arthur thought he was going to say in reply choked in his mouth.  _ Merlin was right. _

So caught off guard by the accusation and the realization that he really was at fault, Arthur fumbled with the sword and dropped it. He took a few uncertain steps backward, looking at his trembling hands.

_ Thousands. _

_ He was responsible for the death of  _ thousands  _ of innocents.  _

Certainly, Uther carried most of the blame, but now… After all that Arthur had learned, there was no doubt in his mind that Morgause had been telling the truth all those years ago. His birth had been the spark that fed the flames of the great purge. 

“You understand now, don’t you?” Merlin asked, turning to face him. “You understand why I can’t let you leave here alive, either.”

Arthur froze, his gaze slowly traveling from the hands stained with so much blood and towards his once friend. To the man who was going to kill him.

“I’m almost sad to see you go. It seems that you  _ can _ understand the weight of your actions, but it’s too late, Arthur. I hope all those tortured souls you condemned torment you for the rest of eternity,” Merlin paused, raising his hand toward him, palm opened wide. 

“Goodbye, Arthur.”

And then everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any predictions of what's going to happen next? Let me know your thoughts in the comment section! Who knows, I might just reveal a spoiler or two...


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin and Arthur race against the clock to save Camelot, but when something awful happens to their past selves, will they even exist by the time the day is out?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy!  
sorry for the long wait. more on that in the notes at the end.

Merlin and Arthur rode towards Camelot, pushing their steeds as fast as they could go. Dread settled in his chest, and Merlin could not help but think they would be too late. That Camelot would fall and all of their friends would die because of him. 

They’d been riding for almost two days, desperate to reach the citadel before Morgana and her army. Both of them were exhausted, having barely stopped the night before for rest. If it had been up to them, they would have pushed onwards, but the horses could not handle it. 

Merlin knew they’d have to stop soon, but he didn’t want to think about it. Rather, he just pushed onwards and abandoned the thought. They’d have to reach home before anything happened, no matter what. 

A shout of pain sounded behind him, and Merlin nearly jumped out of his saddle. “Arthur?” He called out warily, only to receive no response. He jerked the reins back, forcing his horse to slow down abruptly before he turned back to see what had happened. 

Merlin frowned at the sight before him. Arthur’s horse trotted around anxiously, but its rider was mysteriously absent. A moment later, he spotted Arthur’s body lying prone on the earth, skin deathly pale. 

Merlin swore to himself before swinging his legs off of the horse, clambering to stand. He barely managed even that, stumbling over his feet and nearly falling over as he ran to his king. His breath was caught in his throat, and a terrible feeling he couldn’t quite make out pooled in his stomach, pulling him down like a ton of weights. 

“Arthur…” He gasped, finally reaching the man and falling to his knees. “Arthur?”

Arthur showed no sign of having heard him. He merely laid there, chest barely rising and falling, looking paler than he had even when he died. What had  _ happened? _

“Come on, wake up…” He whispered, reaching forward to feel Arthur’s pulse. He pressed his fingers against Arthur’s throat, only to cry out in surprise as his hand went right through Arthur’s body. 

“What?” He asked, hands starting to shake. Merlin could practically feel the panic attack starting. Thinking he had imagined thinks, he moved his hand to try again, but it was no use. No matter what he did, his hand fell through Arthur’s body like the way it would cut through air. 

Was Arthur dying? Was this happening because he had risen from the lake? Merlin rifled through his mind for any explanation, even daring to use his magic, but nothing made sense or worked. 

Unless… 

Unless it wasn’t something that had happened to his Arthur.

Was it possible that something had happened to the Arthur of the past, and that it would now claim the Arthur of the present?

If made complete, if paradoxical, sense. What else could explain this? It was as if Arthur was merely ceasing to exist, the solid body of his being the first to go. 

Then, as if nothing at all had happened, Arthur sat up like a shot, gasping in the air like a dying man. No, not like. Arthur really  _ might _ have been a dying man. 

“Arthur! Are you alright?!” Merlin questioned, hands grasping Arthur’s shoulders, too worried to realize that his body had become solid once more. Arthur’s eyes rolled around in his head wildly, only to settle on Merlin’s own eyes a few moments later. His eyes fluttered open and closed repeatedly, mouth gaping like a fish like he was struggling to stay awake. 

“Come on. Don’t pass out on me now,” Merlin encouraged and Arthur gave a weak nod. He then took a few steadying breaths, managing to calm himself down a little. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” Merlin asked when it seemed like Arthur wasn’t on the verge of collapsing in on himself. Arthur nodded once, wringing his hands like he was surprised to find them still there.

“Something’s happened…” Arthur began slowly, “something’s happened to me… not  _ me, _ but my… my younger self. He’s in danger,” he continued, and Merlin’s frown deepened. It seemed his suspicions were correct. 

“If that’s true, then we need to go help him. Do you think you can ride?” Merlin asked, looking doubtful. It was clear that Arthur was in a great deal of suffering, so the answer was likely no, though Merlin was loathe to leave him here on his own. 

Arthur inhaled shakily, and his body flickered, Merlin’s hands going right through him once more. “I… I don’t think so. You should… go on without me,” he gestured weakly towards the horses, and Merlin sighed. Arthur’s eyelids drooped closed once more, and his breathing evened out. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Stay safe,” Merlin told him softly, despite knowing that Arthur had fallen asleep and wouldn’t hear him. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against his king’s. Arthur was deadly cold, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

Merlin had only just gotten Arthur back, after over a thousand years of waiting. There was no way he was going to lose him now. With new determination, he stood, clenching his fists tightly. He knew that every moment he wasted was another chance for Arthur’s life to slip away, so he made quick work to mount his horse. After casting a few protection spells over Arthur, he was off. 

It seemed like the ride took no time at all as Merlin charged through the forest, and yet it took entirely too long. The trees began to blur together as he flew past them. Horrible images of Arthur, lying dead on the floor, flashed through his mind. He couldn’t let them become real. No matter the cost. 

A flash of blonde and silver on the forest floor caught his eye, and he almost kept riding, except for the small moan that came from the spot. Merlin pulled harshly on the reigns, forcing the horse into a trot. He swiveled around then, his breath catching in his throat at the sight before him. 

Arthur twitched on the ground, his fingers fumbling in the dirt. His chest barely rose and fell as blood poured from a wound on his temple, clearly having struck a rock on his way down. Merlin rushed forward hurriedly, heart full of anxiety and trepidation, falling to his knees in front of Arthur. 

Merlin reached out to feel his pulse but was almost instantly repelled by a wave of magic that knocked him back. He blinked dazedly, surprised to have been attacked by the strange force.  _ What had that been? _

He mentally probed the magic with his own, eyes widening when it stretched out to greet him.  _ It was his magic. _

Arthur had been right to suspect Merlin’s younger self, as it had been his magic who cursed the man like this. Merlin’s heart broke to see his magic, usually so soft and full of light, bent to this wicked way. He could not wait a moment longer to see it freed.

First, however, he would have to make sure Arthur would live to see another day. Once more he reached out with his magic, this time calling it to him. It resisted at first, skirting away from him almost like a timid dog, but after a little more plying and pleading, it returned to him, purged of the darkness that once tainted it. 

Arthur drew in a sharp breath on the floor beside him, the color returned to his skin and his eyes a little less sunken. Merlin let loose an anxious laugh, relieved to see the king awake. 

At once, Arthur’s eyes flew to him, blown wide with fear. “St...Stay back, traitor!” He announced weakly, drawing himself into a sitting position and scooting away. He held a hand up to Merlin as if it would defend him. 

Merlin frowned and paused for a moment before sighing. “Arthur,” he began, “it’s  _ me. _ You know, from London? The future?”

Arthur looked unconvinced, although his expression held a little uncertainty. “How do I know you’re not  _ him, _ waiting to finish me off? Tell me something only we would know,” he ordered, waving his hand in a frightened manner. 

Merlin thought about the time they shared before coming up with an answer. “I… I have these…  _ dreams. _ The first night you stayed with me, you overheard me and woke me up from them. You were going to leave, but I asked you to stay. I’m glad you did,” Merlin offered with a timid smile, and the anxiety fled from Arthur’s expression in droves. His creased brow finally smoothed. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Merlin,” Arthur said tightly, offering him a small smile. 

“Of course,” Merlin said, smiling in reply. “Are you injured anywhere else? Can you tell me what happened?”

Arthur frowned at that. “Besides a few cuts and bruises, I think I’m just sore. Whatever you did seemed to do the trick,” he began. “I followed my Merlin out here, and I saw him talked with Morgana of all people. I think… I think they’re planning to overthrow Camelot. Why would he do this? To  _ me?” _ Arthur asked, his voice breaking at the end. Merlin sighed. 

“I don’t think he’s in control of himself. I think somehow that Morgana has him bewitched. I have a way to fix it, but... it’ll take time,” Merlin explained. 

Arthur nodded. “Then it’s not as bad as I’d foreseen. This is good. And where might my elder counterpart be?”

Merlin winced. “I had to leave him behind. When you were attacked, he started to fade from existence. I had to get to you first. We should go after him now if you’re up to it.”

Arthur agreed, and then they were off. Merlin led the horse, choosing to walk by Arthur instead. The pace was slow going and tedious, but they made progress. 

It was almost daylight by the time they reached his Arthur. He was up and about, even having made a fire for himself. 

“Nice to see you’re doing alright,” Merlin laughed at the sight, and Arthur jumped. 

“Merlin!” Arthur cried, surprised. He ran over to meet them, throwing his arms around Merlin’s neck. “Whatever it was you did, thank you. I woke a few hours ago, feeling good as ever.”

They both told the future Arthur of what had happened, and now he too had worry lines across his forehead. Merlin knew something had to be done, and they couldn’t waste time trying to make it back to Camelot.

“I’ve never tried this with multiple people, let alone by myself, but I’ve seen others do it. How hard can it be?” Merlin jested after suggesting he could magically transport them all to Camelot. 

“Knowing you, you’ll find a way to muck it up,” both Arthurs teased at once, before looking at each other in surprise. Merlin snorted. 

“Might as well get this done now,” Merlin sighed. He grabbed onto the shoulder of his friends (technically  _ friend, _ since they were the same person. Huh.) and prayed that whatever he was about to try worked out. 

Taking a deep breath, his eyes flashed gold, and then suddenly he was being pulled apart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello folks. I'm here to try and offer an explanation as to my absence. I've been sick for about four months now, and I have to visit the doctor daily. It's really not fun. A lot of other stuff is going on too, like exams, papers, and a lot of other stressors in my life. My mental health is not great lately because of it and I couldn't find the effort to complete the chapter, which has been sitting in my folder for about three weeks, but finally, here it is. I'm hoping to do better for the last few chapters! Thank you so much for all of your support. Your lovely comments really inspired me to finish the chapter. Please consider leaving a comment! They really make it all worth it.


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A magical journey. A man twice risen from the dead. An immortal warlock reaching his breaking point. Everything begins to unwind as our heroes near the final battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait on this! this time of year is awful, what with finals and papers. I hope you enjoy! ngl it's very angsty.

The whirlwind lasted only a moment, but that was all it took to make Arthur sick. The very second they landed he was on his hands and knees, expelling his dinner from the night before. Merlin grimaced, offering him an awkward pat on the shoulder before he too was vomiting right beside him. 

The version of Arthur from the future remained strangely unaffected. When both he and Merlin were finished they turned to him with eyebrows raised. 

“What?” Arthur asked in reply, shrugging his shoulders. Merlin frowned thoughtfully. 

“Just strange, that’s all,” Merlin answered, but it seemed as if the warlock didn’t think it was quite that simple. He supposed it would have to wait until the business with Morgana and (younger) Merlin was sorted. 

Oh, blast it. Arthur hated referring to people based on what time they’re from. From then on, he would refer to the elder Arthur merely as ‘the king’ and the cursed Merlin as simply ‘the warlock’. Finally, it was sorted. 

“And where, exactly, did we end up?” Arthur asked, gazing around the setting. It was oddly familiar. 

“We’re about a half hour’s walk from Camelot if I remember correctly. This is where I used to meet Kilgharrah,” Merlin said in reply, and Arthur’s eyes widened. Yes, he did remember it vaguely. That night with the dragon had not settled quite correctly in his memory, what with the blow to his head and all, but he did remember this. 

“Shall we journey on, then?” The king asked and Merlin nodded. 

“This way,” Merlin gestured across from them, and then they were off. Anxiety began to pool in Arthur’s belly, fearing what they might find when they did arrive. 

They walked on silently and quickly. Everyone was clearly in a hurry to get back, and for once Arthur ached for Merlin’s endless ramble. Maybe then he could feel a little calmer. It was not to come, however, as Merlin lead the pack wordlessly. 

Suddenly, Merlin stumbled to a halt. 

“What? What is it?” The king asked worriedly, coming up to stand beside Merlin as Arthur followed suit. He drew in a breath, horrified. 

Camelot’s white stone castle peeked over the foliage innocently, though clearly not all was well. Turrets burned with bright fire as a black flag fluttered in the wind. He could only just barely make out the sight before him, but Arthur was almost certain he spotted a body topple off of a balcony too high up to survive. He wanted to be sick. 

“We must hurry,” Merlin ordered, voice choked. Arthur and the King quickly followed, their pace renewed with a desperate fervor. Arthur wondered what had become of Guinevere, of his knights. 

Had Merlin- no, had the  _ warlock  _ killed them yet?

They neared one of the walls surrounding the citadel, just by the woods when a clamor of voices came headed their way. Arthur tensed, drawing his sword. He watched the king do the same. Merlin’s face seemed to harden as if tired of the bloodshed, but he held up his hands defensively anyway. 

“Quickly, you must get the Queen to safety. We’ll hold them off,” A familiar voice became clear as the group rounded the bend. Arthur’s jaw nearly dropped as he recognized Guinevere, Leon, Gwaine, and was that  _ bloody Lancelot?  _ It  _ was!  _

The group skidded to a halt at the sight of them, giving their pursuers a chance to reach them. The knights quickly fell into battle stances, pushing the queen behind them. Arthur himself readied for a fight, but before he could do anything the men went crashing into the wall, their necks giving an audible snap. 

All Arthur could do was gape at the sight of it. He’d never really seen Merlin’s magic used as a weapon. He couldn’t help the heavy feeling that settled in his stomach. Merlin’s eyes twinkled sadly as he looked down on his hands. 

“Arthur! You’re alive!” Guinevere cried suddenly, rushing forward to throw her arms around his neck. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief to have her in his arms again, bringing her closer to him. 

“Lancelot?” Merlin gasped from behind him. “What are you doing here?”

The king spoke up. “Yes, I’d rather like to know that myself.”

Lancelot grimaced. “I take it that the Lady of the Lake was worried about you when Arthur almost died. She sent me in as backup, and just in time,” he explained. Both the king and Merlin nodded in understanding. It seemed they were both well-versed in this ‘lady of the lake’s’ antics. 

“He’s right, sire. A moment later and Morgana’s forces would’ve overcome us. They’d already gotten Percival and Elyan,” Leon offered up in addition. Arthur’s heart stuttered. 

“They’re not…?” He trailed off in shock, unwilling to speak the possibility out loud. 

“They’re fine, as far as we know. Captured, but fine. They were knocked out by some magic in the first wave I think. We had to keep going, though. We had to get Gwen out of there, what with you being missing in action. It’s good to see you alive though if I do say so myself,” Gwaine answered, allowing himself a little grin at the end. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief to hear his knights were alive. 

“Was… Was Merlin in there?” Arthur asked hesitantly. No one replied, however, as the sound of clanking footsteps on top of the wall grew closer. Arthur figured they’d have come sooner or later. As one, the group dashed into the woods to hide. Just in time, as a patrol unit passed by without noticing them. 

It was a few more moments before someone finally answered his question. Guinevere cleared her throat awkwardly, threading her fingers through his. 

“He was. Merlin led the attack, in fact,” she said solemnly. His face fell. Arthur had really hoped that they’d been wrong. 

Leon turned to Merlin with a crease in his brow. “Why would you- er, why would  _ he _ do that? You led us to believe that he wanted to protect Camelot with his magic. What happened?”

Merlin squared his shoulders before replying. “While you were all with me, Morgana cast a spell on him. He’s not in his right mind. I’ve seen the spell used before, but that’s the only good news. The only way I know of to break it is to bring the cursed to a special lake and summon the White Goddess. I don’t think I can summon her on well... _ myself, _ much less get him there without destroying Camelot in the process. Right now, he has the power of Emrys and a darkened heart. This won’t end well.”

“So what can we do?” The king asked. Everyone echoed the question. Arthur wasn’t quite sure there was an answer. 

“For now, we should focus on stopping the damage as soon as possible. We need to rally together and save our strength. In the morning we’ll face them again and try to reclaim the kingdom. We’ll worry about my younger self later,” Merlin answered.

That evening found them located a little deeper into the woods, setting up camp. They’d not come across any other knights since the time they’d fled the citadel, so their siege would have to be the Knights of the Round table alone, just like old times. 

Merlin and the king had not parted since they’d settled. They sat on a log together, speaking quietly but intensely. Arthur watched them closely, feeling envious that some version of himself had Merlin, while his Merlin was trapped under a spell and suffering. 

“Sire?” A voice asked, breaking his train of thought. Ah, Lancelot. 

“Is something the matter?” Arthur asked, glancing at the man with a tired smile. It was strange, but nice to have the man back after losing him in such a cruel way. He still got some whiplash from looking at him, though. Arthur suspected it would be a while before he got used to it. 

“I wanted to… apologize for what happened the last time we met. It was not my intention to come between Gwen and yourself, you must know, and I would take it back if I only could-”

Arthur, feeling pity for the man, cut off his ramble. “Lancelot, it’s really fine. I’ve since learned that you were under a spell. That does not change my opinion of you. I know you are a good and honorable man. Besides, it would be rather hypocritical of me to not hold Merlin’s actions against him under this spell and not do the same for you, wouldn’t it?” Arthur smiled teasingly, and Lancelot broke out into a grin of relief. 

“Still, I’m glad to hear that we remain on good terms. I don’t quite understand why I’ve been brought back, but I’m glad it’s given me another chance to serve you, Arthur. You’ve become quite the king since I left you,” Lancelot praised. Arthur clasped his shoulder in praise before Lancelot left to speak with the other knights. 

Left in silence once more, Arthur returned his attention once more to Merlin’s conversation with the king. What had earlier been an intense conversation had escalated to a whisper shouting match. Both were clearly trying their best to remain quiet, but they were very heated. 

Arthur frowned, wondering what the pair were arguing about. He’d never really  _ fought  _ with Merlin before. At least, not in a real sense anyway. They kept going at it, one trying to get their point across while the other interjected with their own words. Soon enough Merlin stood up with a cry of fury, throwing up his hands in frustration. 

“If you even think about facing her, I’ll send you to the bloody  _ colonies!  _ See how you like it with them,” Merlin shouted, louder than he’d been throughout the whole argument. 

“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you try!” Arthur called after him as he walked in the opposite “You can’t control me, as much as you’d like to think you can!”

Everyone in the camp had frozen. All eyes followed Merlin’s departure anxiously. Before anyone else could make a move, Arthur went over to speak with the king. They were the same person- who better to ask what had happened?

After Arthur had asked just that, the king heaved a sigh. “Merlin thinks I shouldn’t fight tomorrow… that we shouldn’t risk it,” he explained. 

“Ah,” Arthur replied tightly. “I can see why.”

“You’re taking his side?” The king asked sharply, his head snapping towards him. Arthur backtracked immediately, shaking his head no. 

“I just mean that I understand where he’s coming from. He’s spent centuries without you. I imagine if it were the other way around, we wouldn’t want Merlin to join the fray just after recovering him,” Arthur reasoned, watching as the king nodded in agreement. 

“I understand that. Really, I do. I just… Now that I  _ am  _ back, I don’t want to lose him either. I want to be by his side, protecting him. He shouldn’t have to do things alone anymore,” the king huffed, wringing his hands anxiously. Arthur wasn’t surprised. Neither of them (or was it just the  _ one  _ of them? They  _ were  _ the same person. Forget it. Too bloody confusing) were very good at sharing emotions. 

“He’ll come around, I’m sure he will. Time has just made him more… stubborn, that’s all. You’ll see,” Arthur replied, clapping a hand on the king’s shoulder. The king gave him a small smile in return before Arthur walked off. 

In the end, Merlin did return, but he was in a terrible mood. He sat on his own, and the only person he allowed to speak to him was Lancelot. No one else, except maybe Gwen and Gwaine, were brave enough to try. 

That night, Arthur couldn’t sleep. He felt too anxious about the morning to even try. However, a suspicious rustling across the fire made him glad to be awake. 

Opening his eyes, he could just barely make out the figure of Merlin slipping away from the group. With a muffled groan, Arthur climbed to his feet to chase after the man.

Merlin continued on in determined silence before Arthur got close enough, but the jump of surprise when he spoke was well worth the wait. 

“I defended you, you know.”

Merlin, after having shrieked like a little girl, turned to face him with a scowl on his face. “Go back to bed, prat. I don’t care which one of you it is, I don’t want to hear you preach at me,” Merlin informed him, turning to continue his walk. Arthur grabbed his wrist, pulling him to a stop.

“I would be the younger counterpart. You didn’t let me finish. I told the king that you would come around. I thought that you would eventually come to your senses and join us properly,” Arthur explained, and Merlin gave a tug on his arm. 

“I really don’t need a lecture from a man more than a thousand years younger than me,  _ thank you,”  _ Merlin huffed and Arthur laughed. 

“That’s just it. You’ve been alone too long, and now you don’t know how to work with others. You can say that you alone are capable of winning, and hell, maybe you are, but I think you and I know better. I think you’ll try to take yourself down with it. All those years alone made you self destructive and now you don’t know how to act around people you care about, is that it?”

Merlin’s nostrils flared. “Shut up! You don’t know what it was like, you have no right to try and tell me what I feel!”

“No, I don’t. But I can tell you what I’m seeing, and it isn’t good. We care about you, Merlin. Don’t do this alone,” Arthur urged as Merlin ripped his arm away and began to storm off. 

“Please, Merlin,” he tried again, reaching for him.

_ “Leave me alone!” _ Merlin roared, spinning around and throwing his hand up. Arthur only had a fraction of a moment’s warning before his eyes widened as he was thrown from where he stood. A force like that of a thousand men slammed into his chest and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Then, he slammed into a tree. An awful crack sounded from his back, and Arthur couldn’t help the cry of pain that ripped through him. 

He was dizzy, so dizzy… Someone was in his face, shouting his name, apologizing. There were swords being drawn in the distance as anxious voices approached. The world spun for a moment and then he was retching from the pain. 

Suddenly, as soon as it had arrived, the pain was gone. Gold from Merlin’s teary eyes began to fade away, and then he understood. Merlin had hurt him out of instinct and anger, but then… He had healed him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, so sorry,” Merlin repeated the mantra over and over again. “I didn’t mean it, I  _ didn’t mean it! _ I’m  _ sorry!”  _

“It’s… It’s okay,” Arthur replied, slightly breathless. “It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” Merlin snuffled out, his voice thick with guilt and tears. 

“You’re right… It’s not. But… but it’s going to be. We’ll get through this, I promise. I forgive you,” Arthur told him, stretching out a weak hand. Merlin grasped it tightly. 

“I don’t deserve it,” Merlin whispered.

“No one ever really does. I’ve given it freely anyway. I promise you, you’ll get better,” Arthur assured, and Merlin nodded tearfully, uttering a few more apologies still. 

“What happened? We heard shouting!” Leon asked as the group approached, woken from their slumber. 

Arthur stood a little stiffly. “Merlin and I had a bit of a row when I found him trying to leave on his own. Sorry for waking you, but we’re fine now. Aren’t we, Merlin?” Arthur answered, looking at the man. If anyone noticed his tears, they did not comment. 

“...yeah. Fine,” Merlin replied, still sniffling but shooting Arthur a grateful look. Arthur nodded in reply. 

The king ran over to Merlin quickly, throwing a comforting arm around his shoulders. “Let’s get you to bed now, shall we? Dry those eyes, you’re alright,” he comforted quietly, escorting him away while the others tended to Arthur.

“Goodness, Arthur. It sounded as if someone was hurt. Are you really alright? What happened, truly?” Guinevere asked, sounding spooked. The knights looked him over carefully. 

“As much as he’d like to pretend he isn’t, he’s still… The time alone. It’s changed him. He’s not alright. But with the right time, the right care, the right  _ people… _ One day, he will be. One day.”

The night passed rather uneventfully after that. By the time the rest of the group had returned, the king had put Merlin to bed. They agreed to have a shift to keep watch for the rest of the night to make sure there were no more incidents, but for the most part, everyone was anxious for the sunrise. 

Arthur could only hope that it would end well, for all of them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! please consider leaving a comment. they help inspire me to finish chapters earlier ;)


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin sets out against Morgana, and the final battle begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this is a month late!!! i hope you enjoy tho

_ One day earlier... _

Morgana stood patiently beneath the canopy of the trees, watching as the sun slipped closer and closer to the horizon. The time was coming when Camelot would finally be hers, and with Emrys on her side, no one could take it from her.

Plastering on a smile, Morgana went to greet Merlin as he approached. The young man was now her devoted servant, always harping on with the ‘my lady’s’ and declarations of allegiance. Morgana couldn’t help but wonder how different things would have been if Merlin had revealed himself to her all those years ago when she’d fallen into his arms and a desperate plea escaped her. 

Merlin was dressed in his usual servant attire and one might not have suspected anything by the way he looked, but the dark bags beneath his eyes and the wicked smile he wore revealed his inner thoughts. 

“Good evening, Merlin. Are you ready?” Morgana asked, grabbing his hands in hers. 

“I’ve never been more ready,” Merlin grinned. “Although, I must tell you something. Last night, I was followed… by Arthur. I couldn’t let him return to Camelot with his knowledge…”

“What?” Morgana practically growled, horrified. 

“Last night, I killed Arthur,” Merlin admitted. Morgana’s heart skipped a beat.

“You’re serious?” She asked breathlessly, hardly believing it. Merlin nodded. 

“My brother’s tyranny is finally at an end. Without their king, the people will have no choice but to look to me. Oh, thank you, Merlin!”

“Of course, my lady,” Merlin smiled. 

“Now, let’s go give them the good news, shall we?”

Later, Morgana thought the betrayed looks on the friends of Merlin’s faces were well worth it. 

-

_ Present-day, in the woods…  _

When Merlin woke the next morning, his hands trembled and tears of guilt pooled in his eyes. He quickly blinked them away and clenched his fists tightly to shake off the tremor. Merlin couldn’t let the others feel like they needed to fuss over him. He wanted to get things over with in Camelot and be done with it. Then, he could wipe their memories of him and go home in peace. 

At least he now had  _ his _ Arthur. That was a blessing unlike any other. 

Currently, only the elder Arthur and Merlin were awake. That was another blessing. Merlin sighed from his bedroll on the floor, rolling onto his back. 

“You alright?” Arthur asked from his seat on a log, absentmindedly whittling down a random stick to a sharp point. 

“I’m tired,” Merlin replied wearily. “I used to fantasize about returning to them, but they’re not the ones we left behind. Not yet. They don’t understand the way things ended, so they can’t understand  _ me. _ I’m too old to keep putting on a show.”

“They haven’t  _ fathomed you out, _ then?” Arthur asked with a smirk. Merlin snorted at the little inside joke. 

“I’m surprised you even remember those words. Hell, I’m surprised  _ I _ remember them,” Merlin replied. “But no, I suppose they haven’t. I doubt they ever will. Does it really matter though? We know the truth about each other, and soon enough they won’t remember ever meeting me.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Arthur shrugged. “Still…” 

Merlin understood what Arthur was implying. They both longed to be the young men that fit into the group like the missing puzzle piece but trying to force the fit made the situation more painful than if they were to go off on their own. 

“Morning,” Lancelot groaned from his place on the floor, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

Ah, yes, Merlin thought. The  _ enigma. _ Every other part of this crazy spell had managed to make enough sense, but not Lancelot. He couldn’t make sense of why Freya had decided to resurrect the noble knight. There was not even a whisper of this in his own memory, nor Arthur’s, so he supposed they’d have to let it all play out before they could understand it. 

“Good morning, Sir Lancelot,” Arthur greeted, if a little stiffly. None of them were quite sure how to act around each other yet. 

Fortunately, the awkwardness between the three of them didn’t last very long. The others soon awoke and joined them. No one brought up the events of the night prior, but Merlin could see the questions in their eyes. He had no intention of answering them. 

They managed to make it through breakfast before they were forced to finally discuss what their strategy was. Merlin had his own plans already, but he gave the others the courtesy of going first. Best to let them get on with it so they could argue with him, he supposed.

“Our best bet is to split them up,” the younger Arthur spoke up. “Morgana is already a force to be reckoned with on her own, we can’t have her join with Merlin.”

That, Merlin agreed with. He was fairly sure they wouldn’t agree with exactly  _ how _ split up he wanted them. 

Everyone chimed in their agreement with Arthur’s words. With the approval gained, he continued to speak. “We’ll split up into equal teams. Leon and Lancelot will go to the dungeons and free Percival and Elyan, and Merlin-”

“No,” Merlin finally spoke, cutting Arthur off. 

“Would you like to add something, Merlin?” Arthur asked, clearly fighting to hold his tongue. The elder Arthur shot Merlin a warning glance. 

“I will face Morgana and myself on my  _ own. _ The rest of you are welcome to attempt to rescue Elyan and Percival, but I won’t let you near the real fight, not if it could put your lives at risk,” Merlin ordered.

“You can’t expect us to let you fight them alone,” Gwaine argued. “Who knows what they’re capable of?”

_ “I do.” _ Merlin countered. “No one knows better than me.  _ No one.” _

“And you’re capable of defeating them both?” Leon asked.

“I’ve had over a thousand years to think about exactly how I would do it. Facing Morgana is child's play compared to all of the things I’ve seen, and I certainly know how to handle myself.”

No one could formulate a response to that, daunted by the truth. At last, they understood. 

Everyone except the younger Arthur, it seemed. He never did know when to stand down. 

“You can’t stop us from helping you, Merlin-” Arthur began, taking a step towards him.

“But I can,” Merlin interrupted. He let his eyes burn gold and Arthur froze midstep, his foot still in the air. Arthur’s eyes scanned the perimeter frantically, but he made no other movements. He  _ couldn’t. _

“Come on, Merlin, let him go,” the elder Arthur chastised. Merlin turned his gaze onto him now, eyes narrowed. 

“I can stop you too. I can stop  _ all _ of you. I’m here to protect you, and I won’t let anyone else get hurt! Not again,” Merlin shouted desperately. The others’ expressions softened a little, coming to understand why he wanted to go on his own so badly. 

“Go rescue the others. Return to this exact clearing, and I’ll meet you here when I’m finished,” Merlin ordered, releasing his hold on Arthur and closing his eyes, letting a whirlwind carry him away and towards his final battle. 

-

Merlin stumbled to the ground as soon as the spell deposited him, immediately nauseous. Clanking sets of armor echoed down the halls and he forced himself to stand, unwilling to raise the alarm yet.

He ducked into a small alcove, forcing down the sick that threatened to overwhelm him. Merlin watched as a pair of guards made their way passed him, and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. 

He’d recognized the men, albeit vaguely. They were Camelotian guards. Even more incriminating, they wore the traditional red garb. Either they were turncoat, or Morgana had them under her spell. 

The latter was more likely. It was just another problem for Merlin. He’d have to be even more cautious, careful not to hurt anyone innocent. 

Once the guards disappeared down another hallway, Merlin slipped out of hiding and began to retrace his steps from so many years ago towards the most obvious location, the throne room. 

-

Morgana sat atop the throne, the crown glittering on her head as sunlight filtered through the windows. It felt so perfect, so  _ right, _ that she could barely contain her rage as the doors flew open and Merlin entered. 

Of course, the Merlin under her spell was stood beside her, looking just as shocked as she did, so this must have been the warlock from the future that she’d only heard about. 

“Morgana,” Merlin’s voice boomed, resonating with an unearthly power. “Leave, now.”

Morgana stood from her throne, gesturing to her little puppet warlock to stay out of it. “Is that how we’re greeting each other now?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “I suppose I could order you to do the same, but I’m curious. Tell me, where are you from? Or rather,  _ when.” _

Merlin laughed, but there was no humor in it. “The truth would terrify you. Perhaps you’re better off not knowing.”

Irritation flared up in her veins. “What, like how you thought I was better off not knowing you had magic? We could’ve helped each other, you and I. But you chose not to tell me, and look where that got you. Are you truly prepared to make the same mistake again?”

“You betrayed us long before I betrayed you,” Merlin choked out, his eyes hollow. 

“So you finally admit to it, then? You betrayed me. It only took you how many years to come to that conclusion?” She teased, feeling vindicated. 

“Fine, you truly want to know?” He asked. Morgana nodded. “1, 520 years, and eleven days to be precise. I’ve had enough time to come to quite a few conclusions.”

Morgana froze. Did he think her a fool? He didn’t look a day over thirty. Even Morgause hadn’t been able to unlock the secret to immortality. Merlin certainly wouldn’t have.

“Do you take me for a fool, Merlin?” Morgana laughed. 

Merlin began to circle her, making her cheeks burn unexplainably red. 

“Yes, I do. An ambitious fool who will lose all that she has left in an attempt to gain something that was never hers. The throne will never be yours, not for as long as I live. And that is going to be for a very,  _ very _ long time,” Merlin scowled, and she sensed a truth to his words. 

“How?” Morgana barked out. “How have you lived so long?”

“It’s thanks to you, actually,” Merlin chuckled darkly. “You stole my magic, and when it was finally returned to me it came back stronger than before. You create your own downfall, Morgana. It was always going to be you.”

_ “No!” _ Morgana screeched. “No, I don’t believe you!” And with that, she uttered a spell and threw a dagger right at Merlin’s chest, smiling with glee as it sheathed itself in his heart. 

Merlin doubled over, his fingers encircling the handle of the blade. With a grunt, he pulled it from his flesh, grunting as it made a sick squelching sound. Morgana watched in confusion, wondering how the idiot wasn’t dead. 

Merlin looked up and dropped the blade, letting it clatter to the floor. Not even a drop of blood fell from the wound as it slowly started to knit itself back together and Merlin regained his posture as if nothing had even happened. 

“I tried to tell you, Morgana,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You can’t beat me.” Then he held his hand out, poised to strike. 

“It seems we are alike in this way. I am a high priestess, no mortal blade can kill me,” Morgana taunted, but this did nothing to him.

“I’m not here to kill you,” was all he said before he shot forward, a wave of fire spreading from his hand towards her. 

Morgana growled, dodging the flame and finding a new footing. What game was Merlin playing?

“My lady!” The cursed Merlin called from behind her, about to jump into the fight. 

“Stay out of this!” Morgana shouted at him. She didn’t want him getting in her way. She sent a torrent of wind in his direction, hoping to knock him off of his feet but no luck. He jumped into the air and seemed to hover over the spell, unaffected by its magic. 

She fired spell after spell at him, but he was impervious to all of them. No curse or element even made him break a sweat. He used his own magic against her in turn and had even managed to land a few shots on her. 

He spewed a few words in the old language and shards of glass came to life, circling her at rapid speeds. They nicked her flesh and caught on her dress, pulling her back and pinning her to the wall. Across from her, she saw the younger Merlin struggle against the same spell. Morgana’s magic fought in vain. Merlin walked closer, his eyes burning unceasingly gold. 

“I can’t kill you,” he said, almost a whisper. The gold in his eyes was so bright now that it was almost blinding. “The fates won’t allow me. But I can let you suffer,” Merlin continued, tilting his head thoughtfully. 

“Your existence is going to be unbearable, Morgana Pendragon. I’m going to leave you with the knowledge that you lose. You won’t know how, why, or when, but you will  _ know.  _ Every waking moment will be haunted. You will live in fear of everyone and everything. Day by day you will drive yourself insane until it is  _ you _ that brings about your own death.”

“No, you’ll never win! I will have my revenge-!”

“Goodbye, Morgana.”

-

Morgana woke with her face in a pile of leaves and twigs. How had she managed to get here? She stood up hastily, brushing off her dress. 

She looked around but spotted nothing familiar. What was this place? And why did her head hurt so badly?

Suddenly, a strange thought came to her mind. 

_ “Your existence is going to be unbearable, Morgana Pendragon. I’m going to leave you with the knowledge that you lose.”  _

Dread filled her, and she looked anxiously toward the horizon. Something told her that nothing would be the same again.

-

Merlin let his breath escape him in one great exhale. He could feel the magic burning in his soul, itching to continue being used after having been cooped up for so long. The spot where Morgana had stood was empty, the glass shards having scattered across the floor.

He was so tired. 

“Merlin!” A voice screamed, sounded afraid. 

Before he could even turn to see who, Merlin felt something shatter against him, and then he was spiraling into the abyss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this story has been frustrating me lately. the tone of it doesn't even fit with where it began. i'm thinking of rewriting it because it's just that bad. let me know if there have been plot points that stood out to you as odd and i'll try and fix them in the rewrite. 
> 
> also, feel free to leave any predictions you may have!! I look forward to hearing them

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and feedback always appreciated :)  
thanks for reading!


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